


Because I Deserve It

by DracoLikesHamsters



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Animagus, Attempt at Humor, Attempted Kidnapping, Canon Compliant, Enemies to Lovers, Flirting, Fluff, Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, Headmistress Minerva McGonagall, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Insomnia, Light Angst, M/M, Nightmares, Portkeys, Post-War, Severus Snape Lives, Slow Burn, Smart Draco Malfoy, Wandless Magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-01
Updated: 2020-07-21
Packaged: 2021-02-18 22:09:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 33
Words: 82,722
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22967317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DracoLikesHamsters/pseuds/DracoLikesHamsters
Summary: The war just ended, and the world has been saved. But Draco Malfoy and his family are now facing trial, and Harry has to wonder whether he should reveal what he knows.Summer ends, and the students have been invited back for an 8th year. How will Harry and Draco act now that they have been freed from their obligations? What will they do, and who will they become?
Relationships: Draco Malfoy & Harry Potter, Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter, Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Luna Lovegood/Ginny Weasley, Neville Longbottom/Blaise Zabini
Comments: 22
Kudos: 344





	1. Prologue

"Malfoy!"

Draco stopped. The battle was over. He had lost. It was time to go, and he needed to get home. The other Death Eaters were ahead, and it was every man for himself. He needed to get to the Manor if only so he could spend a few hours with his parents before their inevitable capture. But that voice, that unfortunately familiar voice, was enough to make him halt.

Because when the savior of the wizarding world called your name, you stopped. Death Eater or not.

He closed his eyes. That familiar feeling of resentment rose in him, making his stomach boil with it. He clenched his hands into fists. It wasn't the voice itself that was detestable. It was quite a nice voice, smooth and rich, like chocolate, and it was the kind of voice that demanded that you listen. If you were in the middle of the Great Hall during dinner, that was the one out of all the other voices that would catch your attention.

It wasn't even the owner of the voice that he hated so much, not anymore. Once maybe, but he had not hated the Golden Boy for a long time now. Yes, he went through the motions, but the resentment and jealousy, yes jealousy, behind them had mysteriously vanished. And besides, any self-respecting Slytherin would do their utmost to ingratiate themself to the most powerful wizard of their generation, and Draco was nothing if not a Slytherin.

In fact, the thing he hated, despised, absolutely detested about the voice was what it made him feel.

Malfoys do not feel. And once it might have been true. Not for Draco, though, not since 4th year, when he realized just how nervous he was for the boy with the messy black hair and green eyes. Especially when that boy had to face a dragon, and when he had nearly drowned in the Black Lake, and when he had come out of that maze screaming about Diggory and the return of the Dark Lord. And now the voice that stirred up those dreaded feelings was saying his name.

He turned slowly, dreading what that voice would say to him now. He opened his eyes, staring into the famous green gaze of one Harry Potter. The Boy Who Lived to Make Draco Suffer was watching him intently. All the other Death Eaters, including his mother and father, had already disappeared into the forest behind him, no doubt apparating away as soon as they crossed the apparition wards. He should have been with them. But now, he was going to get caught and thrown into Azkaban, all because he couldn't resist the bloody Chosen Git's call.

"Potter," he said, inclining his head politely. He may as well make a start on that ingratiating business. They stared at each other, the silence between them thick.

"Well? I don't have all bloody day!" Draco finally snapped at him. Potter seemed to come back to himself then and reached into his pocket, pulling out his wand. He handed it to him and finally spoke. "Here. I couldn't have killed him without it, so you have my thanks." Draco looked at him with confusion in his face before looking down at Potter's wand. His eyes widened. "This is my wand," he said in wonder, before slowly reaching out to take it. Potter looked sheepish. "Yeah. Sorry about that. My wand...broke. And anyway, I wouldn't have been able to defeat Voldemort with my old wand. So thank you for letting me use it. It was strangely...compliant." Draco chose to ignore that last comment and focused on what he had said before that. "I didn't 'let' you use it. You stole it, you twat. And what do you mean your wand wouldn't have worked? You always fought him with it before, and it seemed to work out well enough for you." Potter's eyes became unfocused like he was remembering something. "Yes, I did. But he was never able to kill me with his wand, so naturally, I couldn't have done the same with mine." Draco was positive he was hiding something. "But why...never mind, I don't need to know. What I do need to know, Potter, is why you have delayed me from getting back to the Manor, where I can spend my last few free hours with my family without a psychotic monster breathing down our necks." Draco drawled.

Potter looked a bit taken aback by that comment. Then he looked at him with a calculating gaze. "You might not get sentenced to Azkaban, Malfoy. Your father might not be able to worm his way out of punishment, but you and your mother...you could probably come up with a defense good enough to keep you out of prison. Isn't that what Malfoys are good at?" Draco blinked, and then he was furious. "Of course you would think that, Oh Mighty Savior, but the rest of the world doesn't think so! They'll want to see us pay, and they won't settle for anything less than a life sentence. And I didn't expect you of all people to start defending Death Eaters when they have killed everyone you've ever loved, including your worthless parents and your good-for-nothing, reckless godfather." He sneered at him. "But I shouldn't be surprised. The Boy Who Won't Die has a hero complex, of course, and you are bloody addicted to it! Well, I don't want you to save me, and neither does my mother for that matter. And besides," he said, losing steam and dropping his eyes to the ground, his voice lowering to a whisper. "It's not as if we don't deserve it." Draco was horrified to find that his eyes were prickling, and he furiously blinked to stop them from leaking.

Potter was watching him. He could tell, even without looking at him, he could always tell when he was watching him. It drove him mad all of 6th year, feeling Potter's gaze on him and never seeing him. "You think you deserve a life sentence? Do you really believe that?" Potter's angry voice made him snap his head up to look at him. "Of course." He answered, confused. It was true enough. He had fought on the wrong side, tortured and harassed students the whole year, and had been the reason for Dumbledore's death the year before that, not to mention what happened to Bell and the Weasel. He deserved whatever punishment the public demanded.

Potter shook his head. "You should go. The Aurors will be here soon. I won't tell them I saw you." He turned and started walking away. "Wait! Potter!" Draco yelled after a moment. Potter stopped but didn't turn around. "Thank you. For the wand, I mean. " He said. Potter nodded. Draco hoped he would understand the meaning behind his words, the things he couldn't bring himself to say. But then again, this was Potter. Draco would have been surprised if he was at all adept in the art of reading between the lines. Potter started moving, towards his friends, towards the dead, and towards the light.

Thank you for ridding the world of him.

Thank you for saving me.

And Draco moved further back into the dark forest until he felt that he was past the wards, and then with a loud crack, the Forbidden Forest was once more empty, save for the creatures that called it home.


	2. Chapter 1

It had taken two hours for the Aurors to find them. It wasn't that they had tried to hide, merely that the Aurors had taken that long to come after them. They had gone peacefully, even his father. They were placed in a "safe house," which was charmed and warded to keep them inside and to alert the Aurors if one of them tried to leave. Additionally, ten Aurors were stationed around the property at all times. So, it really was more of a prison, even if they were allowed some comforts and their privacy. The Malfoy name was still worth something, it seemed.

They had stayed in the "safe house" for two weeks, awaiting their trial. And the day had finally come. Draco had had a lot of time to think it over, and he had decided that he would go to Azkaban with the dignity and honor befitting a wizarding family belonging to the Sacred Twenty Eight. He was ready to go to prison. Of course, it was much easier said than done. Sitting in the holding cell, he was terrified. He imagined what it would be like to hear the Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot, who would be trying them himself (he had no idea who it was) declare him guilty. He imagined what it would be like to be dragged off by Aurors while crowds booed and cursed at him. He imagined what it would be like to sit in a cell in Azkaban, surrounded by dementors and wallowing in his own terrifying nightmares. He was not ready to go to prison.

But nonetheless, prison was where he would go. Because he deserved it.

He, his father, and his mother would all be tried in a row. They couldn't be tried at the same time, for they were being accused of different crimes, but the Wizengamot had evidently decided they wanted to be done with all the Malfoys in one go. His father would go first, then his mother, and finally him. He didn't know what to make of that.

The door opened. The Auror that had been in charge of making sure he didn't run away came in. His name was something like Kachamba. Kachumbar? Kachamblur? He was a big man, portly, but surprisingly fast. He had his wand out and ready to cast in case Draco decided to make a break for it. "It's time," was all he said, in his oddly squeaky voice that really was not at all suited for an Auror.

Draco got up swiftly, and with a swish of robes, he exited the cell. It would not be said that he went to his doom without style and grace. After being prodded down a long hallway, Karchumbara pointed to a door on his right and grunted, gesturing for Draco to enter, so he did. His father was already sitting in the chair, the chains wrapped securely around him to prevent his escape. Draco made his way over to his mother, who was already sitting on a bench where they would watch the proceedings and await their turns.

His father's trial was abysmal. Their lawyer was some dimwit who clearly had no idea how to practice law. The prosecution was ruthless, and it was evident that his father was not going to get off easily. And by his face, paler than he had ever seen it before, his father knew it too. Finally, the trial reached its end, the prosecution rested their case, the lawyer for the defense stuttered hopelessly, and the Chief Warlock called for a vote. "All in favor of the defendant, Lucius Abraxas Malfoy, being declared guilty and sentenced to life in prison for his crimes, in addition to paying reparations for the damages he has caused, directly and indirectly, raise your hands."

A majority raised their hands.

"All in favor of declaring the defendant innocent on all counts, raise your hands."

Only a few stragglers meekly raised their hands, undoubtedly only those who thought Lucius Malfoy could somehow punish them from prison.

"Cowards," Draco thought.

"Then I hereby declare Lucius Abraxas Malfoy guilty of murder, torture, conspiring with He-who-shall-not-be-named to commit the mass genocide of muggles and muggleborns, and crimes against Wizard-kind. He is hereby sentenced to life in Azkaban and must pay a sum equal to one-quarter his fortune to charities dedicated to rebuilding damages caused by the war. This trial is hereby over. Auror Karachuma, take Mr. Malfoy back to his holding cell, where he may await the results of the trials of his wife and son before being sent to Azkaban."

So Karachuma was his name, Draco thought dimly. He felt like he was a million miles away from his body. His father, the one who had raised him and cared for him before he went crazy for a lunatic, was never going to come back. Sometimes Draco wondered whether he had existed in the first place. Surely the man who had carried him for miles when three-year-old Draco had fallen asleep on a shopping trip couldn't have been a figment of his imagination, could it? But the man who had followed the Dark Lord praised and worshipped him, was not Draco's father. That was the man going to prison. But where was the father Draco had once loved, before being taught love was a weakness? Where was that man? Would Draco ever see him again? The prickly feeling in his eyes was back, but Draco was frozen. He dimly registered his mother being called up to the chair, barely heard as the Chief Warlock began the trial. He only vaguely knew what was going on as the charges were read, and the prosecution and defense gave their opening statements and arguments. He couldn't bring himself to pay attention, knowing that he might be about to lose his mother too. And this would hurt more because this version of his mother was the same woman who had sung lullabies to Draco every night before bed. It was the same mother that he had spent long nights just pouring his heart out to because he knew he could never do that with his father. He could not lose his mother.

The thing that finally brought him back was a loud knock on the door. It reverberated through the entire room, interrupting the proceedings and causing the prosecutor to fall silent for a few seconds before he loudly cleared his throat and continued. A few seconds later, the knock came again, louder. The lawyer visibly grew annoyed but spoke over the disruption. This time, it was a series of knocks. The angry man kept reading, his voice growing louder with each knock. Then, silence. And finally, with a thunderous bang that made the previous knocks seem only as loud as whispers, the door flew off its hinges to reveal Harry Potter, his hands flung wide and no wand or guardsmen in sight.

—————————————————————

Harry was very conflicted. A copy of last week's Daily Prophet was lying on the bedside table in the room he shared with Ron at the Burrow. He had been staying there for only a week. After the war, he went to Grimmauld Place and cried for a solid day. Then, pulling himself together and pushing all thoughts of the war to the dark, dusty corners of his mind, he threw himself into cleaning the old house. He dusted the rooms, cleared out the Doxy infestations, dealt with the numerous boggarts, demolished a spider nest (Ron would have been petrified), found all the Dark Artifacts and dumped them in a spare room to deal with later, and catalogued all the missing heirlooms he could remember (Kreacher helped) so he could confront Mundungus about it later.

Ron and Hermione had visited him the day after the house was finally semi-clean. After being suitably impressed, Ron had invited him to stay at the Burrow, "to get away from the creepy old elf and the awful, old, wrinkly portrait of Walburga Black." (The portrait had screamed for hours at the insult, and Harry had only accepted so he would no longer be subject to her awful wailing.) But now that he was at the Burrow, he felt marginally better. He still had bad days and constant nightmares, but he found that he could smile again, though he found laughing was still a ways away.

Harry glanced at the Prophet for the seventh time in the last few hours. All the Prophets had been the same since the war had ended - they either praised him for his defeat of Voldemort, mourned for those who had been killed, talked about the nonexistent changes in the Ministry, or reported on the status of the nationwide Death Eater roundup. This particular issue was headlined: "MALFOYS CAPTURED AND AWAITING TRIAL TO TAKE PLACE ON THE 11TH OF JUNE. IS THIS TO BE THEIR REDEMPTION OR THEIR DOWNFALL?"

This was why Harry was confused. And as he did when faced with a particularly challenging problem, he paced. Back and forth and back and forth, he walked. Ron watched him like he was a quaffle being passed from one chaser to another. "Mate," Ron said. Harry ignored him. "Mate," Ron tried again. "Harry. Harry Potter. The Chosen One. The Boy Who Lived Twice. Savior of the Wiz-." "What do you want?" Harry interrupted him. "Knew you would respond to one of those. Didn't know you were so conceited, mate." Ron grinned at him. Harry glared. "I didn't know you knew what 'conceited' meant, Ron." Harry shot back. Ron's smile grew wider.

"Mate, Harry, seriously, if it's going to bother you that much, just go do it. We both know if you don't, you'll feel guilty about it for the rest of eternity. Just go to the bloody ferret's trial. Merlin, I don't know why you would ever want to defend that git, but..." Harry stopped. "So, I should go?" He asked doubtfully. Ron groaned.

"If you're going to wear a hole through the bloody carpet, then yes, go. Get your arse over to the Ministry, barge into the courtroom, say your piece, walk out, and then you'll never have to think about the ferret again. That's the only good thing that'll come of this."

Harry bit his lip. There was a battle raging inside him. On the one hand, he felt that he owed it to Draco and Narcissa, to tell the truth about how they had saved him. On the other hand...

"I don't want you to save me, and neither does my mother for that matter. And besides, it's not as if we don't deserve it."

Malfoy thought he deserved this, and if Malfoy wanted to face justice, then who was Harry to stop him? But then again, it was only justice if the court knew all the facts, and Ron was right that he would feel guilty about it, especially with that look on Malfoy's face...

"The Boy Who Won't Die has a hero complex, of course, and you are bloody addicted to it!"

Was Malfoy right? Was he addicted to saving people? But Harry had never wanted to be the one to save everyone, had never asked for that burden to be placed upon his shoulders. He had always just done what he had believed to be right, and that just happened to mean saving the world. And telling the truth was the right thing to do, whether Malfoy wanted him to or not.

Harry had reached a decision.

"I'm going." He announced to Ron. Ron collapsed backward onto the bed he was sitting on so that he was now lying down. "Finally." He groaned. Then he sat up again. "Do you want me to come with you? Or Hermione? Or both of us? We would come, you know. We hate that pointy git, both of us, but we would do it for you." Ron rushed out anxiously.

"Of course we would." A voice came from the doorway, and Hermione walked in. "And Harry, you really ought to go. Ron is right; you would never forgive yourself if you didn't."  
Ron goggled at her, obviously surprised that she had agreed with him. He cleared his throat. "How long have you been standing there, 'Mione?" He asked. "Long enough," was her reply.

Hermione turned back to Harry. "He might not want you to defend him, because it'll hurt his pride, and you know how Malfoy is when his pride is insulted. You have to be careful, Harry. You have to convince him it's not for his sake. But don't be mean. Or insensitive. And I don't want to be rude, Harry, but you can be quite thick sometimes, so do try and understand what he's going through." She said, and as always, Harry was grateful for her advice. This time though, he was also a bit insulted. "I'm not thick," he protested weakly. But even he knew he could be a bit oblivious at times, so he dropped it.

Hermione gave him a look, but only said, "Harry, if you want to make it to the trial on time, you'd better leave now." Harry quickly glanced at the clock. Merlin, he was going to be late! Lucius' trial was sure to be over soon, but he never had any intention of going to that, so he wasn't disappointed. But if he wanted to get to Narcissa's trial, he would have to leave. He jumped off the bed, then turned to the mirror. "Merlin, Hermione, I look like the Ford Angela ran over me (Ron turned red). I can't go to the trial looking like this! But I need to leave..." Harry dithered, debating the merits of changing into something better, even though it would take a while. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Honestly, Harry, have you forgotten that you're a wizard?" She flicked her wand, muttered an incantation, and soon formal robes had replaced his rumpled muggle clothes. "Thanks, 'Mione," he said sheepishly and turned to leave.

The moment he stumbled out of the floo at the Ministry, he knew it was a mistake. He should have brought his invisibility cloak. The whole entrance hall was silent for a moment, then it exploded.

"Harry Potter. Oh, Merlin, it's Harry Potter!"

"Do you see him? Did you see his scar?"

"Oh look, Harry grew so much! He looks so hot.."

Harry blushed at the last comment but resolutely began pushing his way through the crowd. People, including Ministry workers, he was surprised to see, were craning their necks for a glimpse at him. Reporters were shoving their Quick-Quotes Quills in his face.

"Harry! Harry Potter! Why are you here at the Ministry? Have you come to ask for the position of Auror?"

"Mr. Potter, are you at the Ministry to witness the trial of your enemy, Draco Malfoy?"

Harry ignored the questions. He felt bad for it, but he resorted to elbowing people to make headway through the crush. He had barely made it a few meters before a warm, strong hand latched onto his shoulder and guided him out of the crowd. He looked up to see Kingsley Shacklebolt. Shacklebolt expertly made way through, and soon enough, they found themselves in a quiet hallway.

"Harry," Shacklebolt said in his deep, soothing timbre. "Please tell me you are not here for the reason I think you are." Harry straightened. "Minister-" he began. "Kingsley," Shacklebolt interrupted him with a smile. "Please, call me Kingsley."

Harry hesitated. "Kingsley," he began again. "I need to see Narcissa and Draco Malfoy. I wish to be a witness for their defense at their trials." Kingsley looked shocked. "I must admit, that was not the answer I expected from you. But, I also admit I should have known. You are far more grown up than any of us have given you credit for. I apologize. I know you better than to think this would be about some petty rivalry. However, I cannot allow you to enter the courtroom."

"Why not?" Harry asked, confused. He was indignant that Kingsley thought he would be there to gloat, but he let it go in favor of the more urgent matter. "No one is allowed to enter once the trial has begun unless it is an emergency. I'm afraid that you will not be able to enter." He hesitated, then said, "Harry, if that is all you are here for, then I must ask you to leave. But, you are always welcome to visit me, and should you ever wish to join us, the Department of Magical Law Enforcement will always have a spot for you."

Harry was taken aback. This was not what he had expected. "Thank you, Kingsley, but right now, I think I've had enough of dark wizards for a lifetime. Is there truly no way to enter the trial?" He asked one last time to make sure. "I'm afraid not, Harry," was his answer. Harry nodded. "Then, I must be going. I will stop by sometime to visit, though." Kingsley clapped him on the shoulder and then guided him back to the entrance hall. "I must leave you here; I have some urgent business to attend to. I wish you luck on your way out." Harry thanked him and watched him leave. But Harry himself had no plans to exit, not yet at least. An idea was forming in his head. Because when Harry Potter made up his mind, he followed through. And because half-baked plans are what Harry does best.

Harry quickly slipped into one of the elevators frequently used by Ministry employees. Luckily, the people he came across had enough sense to refrain from accosting him and demanding an autograph. He got out at the Department of Mysteries because as luck would have it, the Malfoys were being tried in Courtroom Ten, the same place he was tried when he was attacked by dementors. As he approached, he saw two guards standing at the entry to the room. He knew the moment they recognized him. "Harry Potter," one of them murmured respectfully, inclining his head. Harry nodded back. He recited his carefully thought out excuse. "Excuse me, kind gentlemen, but would you be so kind as to let me in? I was supposed to be here as a witness ages ago, at the start of Mrs. Malfoy's trial, but I got held up." He shook his head and clucked his tongue for dramatic effect. "The crowds and reporters wouldn't let me pass, and I didn't wish to tell them my business, as you can imagine. But if you would be so kind, I need to get in so I may testify." It was true enough, even if he lied about some bits. Though he hated to do it, he hoped reminding them of his fame would help convince them.

The two men looked at each other and shrugged. One of them spoke up, "I'm sorry, Mistah Pottah, but rules are rules. We cahn't let yeh in." Harry sighed, but he had anticipated this. Fast as a snitch, he drew his wand and stunned both of them. "I'm sorry," he whispered, but he turned his attention back to the door, putting his wand away again. He knocked once. No response. He knocked again but to no avail. He tried knocking several times, but no one answered. He grew frustrated, and he kicked the wall next to the door. His pain quickly became fury, and he pushed the door open with all his might, magic crackling around him. He was surprised when it swung open with a loud bang, but nothing would stop him now. He would tell the world the truth, whether they wanted it or not.


	3. Chapter 2

Potter stood at the door with a sheepish look on his face, but his visage quickly morphed to one of determination. He strode forward, intent clear on his face. Whispers broke out amongst the court, but they quieted down with a look from the Chief Warlock.

Draco was not happy at this turn of events. But, he was not altogether surprised. How could he be, when he had tormented Potter for years now and had given the boy every reason to hate him? He would not hold a grudge against Potter for this, not when he so clearly deserved it. He was more disappointed that Potter would take their rivalry so far that he had to condemn his mother too. But they deserved it, so Draco understood.

The Chief Warlock cleared his throat. "Mr. Potter, I am not sure if you are aware, but you are not allowed to be in this room. The trial has already started." Potter looked up at him and nodded. " I know, sir, but I have some very important information regarding the actions of Mrs. Malfoy. I apologize for not being here on time, but I was stalled." The Chief Warlock looked surprised, but said, "That may be so, Mr. Potter, but it would be remiss of me to break the rules to allow you to testify."

Potter raised his eyebrow at this. "However glad I am to see that the Ministry is so determined to follow the rules, I must say that this trial would be unfairly judged without my information. It is crucial to the proceedings." He cocked his head, his eyes gaining a calculating look. "The Ministry has a history with unfair trials, I might add. My godfather, Sirius Black, did not even get a trial. And my own trial two years ago was very clearly weighed against me. It would be rather...unfortunate...if the Ministry were to repeat old mistakes."

Draco was impressed. By mentioning his godfather and himself, Potter was calling out the Ministry, in front of a great many witnesses. It would be unwise of them to try and kick him out now. He would have done well in Slytherin. Draco was surprised by the thought that flitted through his head. Potter was a Gryffindor of the highest order; there was no possibility of him being even the slightest bit Slytherin. Draco only wished that Potter hadn't grown quite so clever just as he was about to send them to jail.

The Chief Warlock looked embarrassed but cleared his throat again. "Very well, Mr. Potter. The prosecution has already laid out their case, but you may go ahead and begin your testimony." Potter looked confused, then comprehension flitted across his face, followed by anger. "I think you are mistaken, sir. I wish to be a witness for the defense," Potter declared.

Draco nearly fell off the bench. The court broke out in whispers again. Harry Potter, Golden Boy and champion of the light, defending known Death Eaters? It was unheard of. Resentment burned in him. Hadn't he told Potter that he and his mother didn't need nor want saving? It was just like the git to go ahead and do what he wanted and ignore his wishes. Bloody savior.

Potter did not look at him or his mother. He merely laced his hands together and stood there, waiting for the murmurs to stop. The Chief Warlock looked distinctly uncomfortable, but having already given his permission, he could do nothing but allow Potter to testify. "You may take the stand, Mr. Potter," he said, sighing and rubbing his temples.

Potter walked up to the stand. He cleared his throat and began. "Mrs. Malfoy was never a part of the Death Eater meetings, except for the ones that took place in her own home because there was no possible way for her to avoid those. I was privy to several meetings through the eyes of Voldemort, so I know better than most about such things. Mrs. Malfoy was always concerned first and foremost with the safety of her son. Every action she took, she did so Draco Malfoy would be safe. She never asked for Voldemort to reside in her home, but allowed it because she knew protesting would mean the death of her and her family."

Draco was positively shocked. When did Potter get to know his mother so well? His heart hurt a little as he listened to Potter's words and realized just how much his mother had done for him. His mother was looking at Potter, her expression mirroring Draco's own surprise.

Potter continued. "She was willing to live with and be punished by a monster, just so her son would be safe. She was never a true follower of Voldemort. She was never asked to perform any tasks on his behalf and was never given any mission other than to act as a gracious hostess, which she performed only as much as required." Potter took a deep breath and continued, "and Mrs. Malfoy saved my life."

Draco started. When had his mother had time to save the Chosen One? And why hadn't she told him? Why hadn't anyone told him? It should have been big news.

"After Voldemort cast the killing curse and I died and came back to life, Mrs. Malfoy was sent to check if I was truly dead. When she reached me, she found that I was, in fact, alive. Instead of notifying Voldemort, as any truly loyal Death Eater would, she instead asked me whether her son was alive. When I responded that he was, she declared me dead, thus enabling me to surprise Voldemort and finally finish him off."

Draco shifted in discomfort at the casual way Potter mentioned his death and noticed several others do the same. He was proving himself to be more and more Slytherin by the minute. He nonchalantly reminded them of the debt they all owed to Potter for saving the world. And by remarking on how he came back to life and defeated the Dark Lord, Potter subtly reminded them that he was, in fact, the most powerful wizard of their time and that it would be quite unwise to cross him. Draco was impressed, very impressed. He couldn't have conducted this better. He reminded himself to confront his mother about this later, though. He glanced at his mother again, and her face was impassive, not a hint of anything that could have disproved Potter's words showed itself.

Potter fell silent, evidently finished. The jury was talking quietly amongst themselves, shocked by the information they had just received. The Chief Warlock stood up. "With that," he said, clearly shaken, "let us vote. All in favor of declaring the defendant, Narcissa Malfoy née Black, guilty, raise your hands."

Less than half raised their hands.

"All in favor of declaring the defendant innocent?"

A majority raised their hands.

The Chief Warlock gulped. "Then I declare Mrs. Malfoy innocent on all counts. However, since she is still a Death Eater, and married to a convicted Death Eater, she must be monitored to ensure she does not...relapse."

Potter looked outraged but wisely did not say anything. This was the best outcome Draco could have hoped for. His mother was free. She could enjoy her life without constraints. He didn't care if he was declared guilty; this was enough for him.

Now it was his turn. His mother walked towards him. She would sit on the bench while his trial went on. He got up to go sit in the ominous-looking chair. As he passed his mother, she gave his arm a squeeze and said, "It will be alright, my love." He swallowed and nodded. He made his way over to the chair and sat down. The chains, after a moment's deliberation, stayed where they were. The Chief Warlock did not look happy at this.

Draco looked around. He had expected Potter to leave now that his mother was free, but Potter simply sat on the bench to watch. Draco's hands began to sweat. He didn't want Potter to see him like this, helpless while he was relentlessly questioned and forced to admit to his crimes.

The Chief Warlock began. "Draco Lucius Malfoy," he read, looking down his nose at Draco. "You have been accused of conspiring with He-who-shall-not-be-named to commit the mass genocide of muggles and muggleborns, torture of innocent children while at Hogwarts, and the attempted murder of Albus Dumbledore."

Draco bowed his head. Regret crashed into him. He had done each and every one of those things. There was no chance of him walking free. The prosecution began, and he mindlessly answered questions about the war, his conversations with the Dark Lord, and his mission to kill Dumbledore. He spoke in a monotone voice, his brain had stopped functioning, and it was all he could do to give them the answers they sought. When the prosecutor was finished, he had a smug smile on his face as if he knew he had won. Draco knew it too. His case was hopeless. He would do any punishment they gave him willingly. It would be his penance, his apology to Dumbledore, and every student he had ever hurt. Because he knew he deserved it.

When his awful lawyer had finished, Potter stood up again. Draco stared at him blankly. Was it time for Potter to leave? Was there somewhere he needed to be? Or maybe this trial was so pathetic that Potter could no longer stand to watch. The Chief Warlock gave Potter a resigned look and allowed him to walk over to the stand. Wait, the stand? What was Potter thinking?

Potter still had not looked at him once. He waited for a beat and then began. "Draco Malfoy never wanted to kill Dumbledore. He had no choice. It was either kill Dumbledore or have his family killed. Thus, Malfoy never put any real effort into his attempts to kill Dumbledore. Each one had some chance of going wrong, and each attempt did fail. Only the plan he worked on for the entire year succeeded, but only because he could not avoid working on it. He had to succeed because otherwise his family would have been killed." How did Potter know all that? How had he known that Draco had done everything he possibly could to make sure his own plans had failed without raising suspicion? How could Potter possibly know?

"When Malfoy finally succeeded, he was forced to let Death Eaters into the castle. Then, he went up to the Astronomy tower, only to find Dumbledore in a very weak state, but still strong enough to cast just one spell. And instead of stopping Malfoy, Dumbledore chose to cast a Petrificus Totalus on the only other person there. Me."

Well, that explained why Potter knew so much. And why Dumbledore had been talking to himself just before Draco got there. But Draco hadn't seen anyone else up there, he had made sure of that. But damn, he had forgotten about Potter's bloody invisibility cloak. That thing was a nuisance, it really was. Draco didn't think it was fair Potter had it.

"I was there the night Dumbledore died. I saw as Malfoy prepared to kill him, and didn't. Dumbledore talked to him, urged him to reconsider and join the light side. He offered him and his family a way out. Malfoy lowered his wand, and it was clear that he was about to accept. But then the Carrows and Fenrir Greyback came in, and soon Severus Snape was there. And Malfoy had no choice but to raise his wand again. But Snape beat him to it. Snape was the one to kill Dumbledore because he knew that Malfoy could never do it and because he didn't want Malfoy to be a killer. Snape killed Dumbledore upon Dumbledore's request; it was all planned far in advance. So Malfoy never intended to kill Dumbledore in the end. He had every chance; Dumbledore was quite weak and defenseless, and they were alone for a while before the others arrived. As for becoming a Death Eater, I believe that was the mistake of a young and misguided boy who didn't know what he was getting himself into. There was undoubtedly pressure from his father and Voldemort himself to join. I do not think it can be held against him. Malfoy also saved my life, like his mother. Last year, I was captured by snatchers and brought to Malfoy Manor. Malfoy was brought in to help identify me since he has known me for years. Malfoy did not confirm my identity to the Death Eaters, so Voldemort was not called immediately, and I was later able to escape. Any Death Eater who truly wanted to follow Voldemort would have jumped at the chance to turn me in. And I refuse to believe that Malfoy simply did not recognize me. And as for the torture and harassment of the Hogwarts students...well, Malfoy couldn't have shown regret or signs of unwillingness to follow Voldemort with Death Eaters in the castle. It would have suicide, or at the very least, severe punishment. I believe that Malfoy never wanted any of this and he only did what he had to to keep his family safe, and any more than what was required of him."

Draco was stunned. This had to have been a dream. He would wake up at any moment and find that the trial hadn't even happened yet. Because in what world would Potter be so passionately defending him, Draco Malfoy, a known Death Eater? His only regret was that if this wasn't real, then his mother hadn't really been declared innocent.

Potter was silent once more, awaiting the court's final decision. The Chief Warlock's face was pale and sickly when he called for the vote. "All in favor of declaring the defendant guilty, raise your hands."

Only a few people raised their hands. Draco held his breath.

"All in favor of declaring the defendant innocent, please raise your hands."

Almost everyone raised their hands. Draco wanted to cry. How had this happened? How had such a miracle come to pass? Not only was his mother free, but he was as well. They could live together now, free of the Dark Lord forever. He supposed he would have to thank Potter. That was the only thing that tarnished his now bright future because now he would have to admit that he had been wrong. He and his mother had needed saving, and unfortunately, that meant they had needed the Boy Who Lived to Infuriate Draco.

"Then, I declare Draco Lucius Malfoy innocent on all counts, though he must and will be subject to the same observation as Mrs. Narcissa Malfoy for the same reasons."

Draco almost smiled. Because, now he knew that this wasn't just a very good dream, it was his reality.


	4. Chapter 3

Draco hugged his mother. They were finally free from the monster. This was a moment he would cherish for the rest of his life. But first...

Draco turned to Potter. Potter was still at the stand, looking thoughtful. Draco approached him, but as he neared the other boy, Potter suddenly turned and headed for the door. Draco wanted to call out to him, much like how Potter had called out to him in the Forest that day. But Draco didn't. He didn't want to call attention to himself. And greeting the Savior like they were no longer enemies would surely call attention to both of them. So he simply watched as Potter walked away from him, out the door, and back to his undoubtedly busy life.

Draco turned back to his mother. The look she gave him was so understanding and kind that he began to wonder what kind of expression his own face was pulling.

It didn't even matter that Potter hadn't talked to him. He understood that Potter probably wouldn't want to talk to a Death Eater. It was surely bad for his reputation, though Draco didn't think that mattered at this point. It was how he had left without sparing Draco, even one glance that made him feel like he had been hit in the stomach with a bludger.

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Draco walked onto the familiar platform where the scarlet Hogwarts Express awaited its passengers. He had never expected that he would once more board the familiar train. He was still stunned that McGonagall had invited him of all people back for one final year. After all, it was partially his fault that the new 8th years hadn't been able to learn anything last year.

He almost hadn't chosen to come back. He didn't deserve to be reunited with the castle that he once called his home when the Manor didn't fulfill that role for him. He didn't want to ruin everyone's last year by reminding them of the horrors they had gone through. He shouldn't have come.

His mother gave his arm a squeeze, almost like she had heard his thoughts, and was giving him comfort. He looked down at her and smiled. If not for his mother's urging, he would have been back at the Manor, lounging around and wasting the days away. But now he was here, and it was too late to turn back.

Draco turned fully towards his mother and leaned down, hugging her tightly. He had done this goodbye every year since he was eleven, but now it felt different. It had been just him and his mother since their trial, and they had grown impossibly close. He felt like he would be leaving a part of himself behind when he boarded the train.

" Goodbye, mother," Draco whispered in his mother's ear. His throat was closing up, so he refrained from saying more. "Goodbye, my love," his mother said, smiling softly. "Please be happy this year, Draco. Be free. Do not worry about anything this time. This is your year to do simply as you wish. Please find your happiness, my dear, so I may be at peace."

Draco resolved to do as his mother asked of him. He was worried for her. This would be her first year completely alone, so if there was anything he could do to make her feel better, he would do it without reservations.

He nodded and stepped back. He smiled once more at his mother, then turned and walked towards the train before his resolve began to waver. He boarded the train, walking down the aisle past full and half-full compartments. He was so absorbed in finding an empty compartment that he didn't notice the people sitting in the one he had just passed.

"And where the fuck do you think you're going?" A very familiar and very pissed off voice rang shrilly through the hall. Draco winced and turned around to face his best friend since childhood. She was standing there, her hands on her hips, the door to the compartment behind her half ajar.

"Pans," he greeted simply.

"Don't you 'Pans' me! Where the fuck have you been all summer? We had to read about the result of your trial in the papers! And we didn't hear shit from you the rest of the summer, even though you were clearly fine! And now you come in here, acting like everything is perfectly alright and we didn't spend the entirety of three months worrying our asses off! What do you have to say for yourself?"

Draco glanced around. Pansy's yelling had attracted quite a large audience. Students were poking their heads out of their compartments, whispering and pointing. Draco sighed. He gently ushered Pansy back into her compartment, sliding the door shut and closing the drapes. He nodded toward the other occupant and said casually, "Hey, Blaise."

"Draco," the Slytherin greeted, inclining his head.

Pansy was still fuming. She tapped her spiky, black heels on the floor impatiently. Draco sighed again.

"Look, Pans, I'm sorry I didn't contact you guys, but I wanted a chance to enjoy my freedom and be with my mother. I'm really sorry I didn't owl you two. You deserve better."

Pansy gave him an odd look. "Alright, Draco. Anything to do with your darling mother is always a passable excuse. But-" she gained a devious look, "what's this I hear about Potter showing up at your trial? Did he really speak in your defense?"

Draco avoided her gaze. "It was nothing, Pans. Just Potter being Potter, doing the right thing, and all that crap. He didn't even look at me. It meant nothing." Blaise snorted. Draco and Pansy turned their gazes to him.

He shrugged. "Nothing ever means nothing when it comes to you and Potter." Pansy had an evil smirk on her face. Draco stared at Blaise, not entirely understanding what he meant.

Draco cleared his throat. "So, anyway, how were your summers?" Pansy's smirk widened, but she let the blatant change of subject slide. "Oh, you know. Went home, mourned, worried about you, worried about Blaise, debated whether I should come back, and did a ton of shopping. Blaise?"

Blaise shrugged. "The same. Including the shopping." He smirked. "Need to look good for a certain Gryffindor." Pansy examined her nails. Then she turned to Draco with a positively Slytherin grin. "What about you, Draco? You look absolutely delicious. Is that also for a certain Gryffindor?"

Draco almost choked. He quickly schooled his face into an unreadable look, but judging by Pansy's expression, he wasn't fast enough. "Of course not Pans. And what on earth do you mean I look delicious?" He looked down. "I look the same as ever."

Pansy rolled her eyes. Even Blaise seemed amused. "You do not look the same, darling. First of all, you almost definitely grew a few inches. Second, your hair is longer, and you stopped using so much of that horrid hair gel. And finally...well you just look incredibly hot, believe me. Potter will be positively drooling when he sees you."

Draco almost blushed. If there was one thing he thanked his father for, it was his countless lessons on maintaining the Malfoy Mask. It certainly came in handy now. He coughed. "Potter won't be doing anything of the sort, Pans. Potter's the most heterosexual guy in all of Hogwarts. If anything, he'll be drooling over the Weaslette." He suddenly felt sick.

Pansy gave him a sympathetic look and graciously steered the conversation away from Potter-related topics. Soon, she announced that she was going to find the Trolley Witch and buy them all something to eat.

When she flounced back in, she looked smug. "You're not the only one looking delectable, Draco darling. Guess who I ran into at the trolley? I suppose you'll be doing a fair bit of drooling yourself this year."

Draco gave her a look. She innocently batted her eyes at him. "You'll have to wait and see, dear. I bet you won't stop staring at him for the entire feast."

Draco shifted anxiously. If Pansy thought Potter had gotten good-looking (not that he wasn't before, but Pansy had always disagreed with that), then Potter had definitely gotten good-looking. He quickly changed the subject before his mind could begin to conjure up images.

Sooner than Draco would have liked, they drew near the castle. The train stopped at the station, and Draco, Pansy, and Blaise got up to leave. As Draco stepped off, he heard a familiar voice.

"Come on, Harry! We mustn't be late to the feast, we'll miss the Sorting, and you've missed far too many already! Let's go before the carriages fill up!"

It was the mudblo- Granger. He would have to get used to that. He quickly looked around for that god-awful hair, because if Granger was there, then the Weasel and Potter would be there too. Draco told himself he only wanted to see Potter to thank him for the trial. Not to confirm that what Pansy had said was true. He almost convinced himself. Almost.

He finally spotted the wild, brown hair and looked in the immediate vicinity of the girl. A few feet to the right, his gaze was caught by another pair of familiar, green eyes watching him. And Merlin, Pansy was right, Potter had gotten hot. The dorky lenses had been upgraded to still dorky, but more fashionable frames. The hair was still a mess, but it was longer, so at least it looked like it was messy on purpose. And Potter had finally filled out, the scrawny build becoming the strong, lean body that all Seekers possessed. But no Seeker could ever come close to matching Potter's looks. Draco swallowed and pushed all the feelings that had risen in him down to the depths of his soul, where no one could ever find them. But he couldn't break the staring contest he had with Potter. Because, as with everything between them, this was a competition, and Draco simply had to win.

But their stare-off was prematurely ended when Blaise shoved him towards Potter in a very not-subtle manner. Draco turned to glare at him but was stopped by a smooth voice. "Malfoy," it said simply. Draco turned back to Potter, careful to keep his face devoid of emotion. "Potter," he greeted back. And then:

"What are you doing, mate? Let's go already! 'Mione will bloody kill us if we make her late!"

The Weasel interrupted their not-conversation and pulled Potter along to the carriage that the mudb- Granger had already claimed. Potter held his gaze for a second before breaking away to look ahead of him at his friends. He clambered into the carriage, and they started off without another look at Draco.

Draco stared after them, anger rising up in him. How dare Potter say nothing? How could he pretend nothing had happened, that he hadn't saved Draco from certain doom this past summer? How could he just leave like that? Pansy shook his arm, and he snapped out of it. To cover up his momentary fury, he strode over to the nearest carriage and climbed into it gracefully. After Pansy and Blaise climbed in after him, they gave him matching looks.

"What?" Draco snapped.

"Nothing," said Blaise with a smirk.

Draco ignored him and Pansy and looked away, his arms crossed. Why had he been angry in the first place? Potter didn't owe him anything. In fact, it was Draco that owed Potter. So why was he so angry that Potter didn't want to talk to him? It was entirely understandable that the Chosen One didn't want to talk to a Death Eater. And yet the thought made him feel queasy. Their ride went on in silence until they reached the castle. When he finally looked at his friends, they were still watching him, except now they had identical smirks. Draco huffed and hurried into the Great Hall, sitting down at the Slytherin table as far away from everyone else as possible. Pansy and Blaise followed him, unperturbed.

When everyone had filtered into the Great Hall, the Sorting began. The hat sang some nonsense about unity and acceptance before the first years were called up one by one to be sorted. Draco smiled widely every time one of them was placed in Slytherin, though he noticed no one from the other houses looked pleased. Once every first year had been sorted, and the students had settled down, Professor - no, Headmistress McGonagall rose and began her speech.

"Welcome. And to our returning students, welcome back. Last year was a troubling time, as many of you know, and we must begin to look towards our considerably brighter future. It is time to come together, as witches and wizards. No longer must we fear a name and no longer must we live in terror, wondering if we will be next. We must come together to prevent such dangers from ever facing our world again. It is in this time that we must put aside our differences and learn to accept one another, for it is the outcasts of society that hold the largest grudges against those that oppress them. In this time, we must put aside our house differences and come together as students of one school, united, as the Sorting Hat has advised." She paused, letting her words sink in. "And with that in mind, we will look towards the eldest among us as an example. Our first and only 8th years must be our guides. They will show you what it means to be united. Among the 8th years, there will be no houses. There will only be students. To aid them in this endeavor, they will all reside in a tower of their own, unseparated by house lines. I hope the rest of you will look to them and follow their example. Houses were never meant to divide, but to bring together similar people that can bring out the best traits in their peers. We must put ourselves back on that path, for we have strayed far. I sincerely hope that this will be a step in the right direction." She sat down, to absolute silence. Then, from the Gryffindor table, loud clapping broke out, and soon the entire hall was cheering for their new headmistress.


	5. Chapter 4

Draco was staring again. He looked away, scowling, as he realized that he had been watching the Golden Boy again. But like metal to a magnet, his gaze was drawn back to Potter once more. He was just so bloody hot. Draco drank in Potter's looks, letting his gaze wander over the boy appreciatively before he snapped his gaze away once more, scowling again.

"Draco, darling. Stop staring at Potter so much. The usual amount of staring is okay, but now you're making him nervous."

Pansy's voice drew his attention away from where it had once again wandered to Potter. He looked back and saw that Potter was indeed looking at him with an uncomfortable expression. Draco looked away.

"I'm not staring, Pans. I never stare at Potter."

Both Pansy and Blaise, who were the only people within hearing distance of him, snorted. Blaise leaned forward, resting his chin on his hand.

"Draco, you've been staring at Potter since our very first meal in the Great Hall. And he stares right back. You've been eye-fucking each other almost since you met. And don't get me started on 6th year."

Draco whipped his head around to glare at Blaise. "We most certainly not have been eye-fucking since we met! We've never eye-fucked! Not once! Our staring is completely limited to hatred and mutual dislike. And what on earth do you mean about 6th year?" he hissed, careful to make sure he wasn't too loud.

Blaise expertly avoided his question. "So, you admit that you stare at each other."

Draco just banged his head on the table in defeat. It was rather un-Malfoyish, but desperate times call for desperate measures. He gave Pansy a pleading look, turning his head sideways, so his forehead was still resting on the table. Pansy just gave him a look that clearly said she was on Blaise's side. Draco groaned.

"I hate Potter," he stated.

"Sure you do, darling. Blaise, will you pass the turkey?" Pansy ignored him. She was used to this sort of behavior.

Draco raised his head up, eyes immediately drawn to Potter, who was watching him. Again. Draco almost blushed and looked away, but he didn't want to look like a schoolgirl with a crush. So, he just stared right back and raised an eyebrow. Potter smirked at him. Smirked! The bloody nerve! Potter never smirked. It was kind of hot.

Draco wanted to bang his head on the table again, but he refrained. He didn't want to suffer any more brain damage than he already had. He had to have a serious brain injury if he was thinking about these kinds of thoughts. He should probably get it checked out.

———————————————————————

"He's staring again," Harry hissed to Hermione. She continued spooning mashed potatoes into her plate calmly.

"Just ignore him, mate," was Ron's helpful advice.

"But he keeps staring at me. It's making me feel uncomfortable like I have a massive zit on my face."

"Don't worry, Harry, your face is fine. And it doesn't seem like he's staring any more than usual." Hermione was clearly not as concerned about this as she should have been.

"What do you mean, 'more than usual'? He doesn't usually stare at me! He must be up to something." Harry wondered why he didn't think of this before. Whenever Malfoy was acting strange, that meant he was definitely planning something. He ignored the mutual groans of everyone within a five-foot radius of him.

"Mate, he always stares at you. As much as you stare at him. Don't worry about it." Ron was clearly too busy stuffing his face full of sausage to worry about this properly.

"And don't you dare turn this into 6th year again, Harry. Malfoy is not up to something. Why would he do anything to jeopardise his freedom? He's not dumb; he knows that he's walking on a very thin rope here. He wouldn't do something that could get him sent to Azkaban." Hermione obviously didn't know the git as well as Harry did.

"Well, he was up to something 6th year, wasn't he? I was right then, so why can't I be right now, too? I should keep an eye on him, just to make sure." Harry ignored everyone else's protests.

"You are not stalking him again this year, Harry! Leave Malfoy alone. You have more important things to think about." Ginny Weasley's voice scolded him as she slid into the seat next to Harry. He gave her a warm smile.

He and Gin had had a talk the previous summer. Harry simply didn't feel like he could be with Ginny any longer. He knew that something inside him was fundamentally not the same. Harry was not the guy he was before walking into that forest, and Ginny didn't deserve to be strung along when Harry knew he wouldn't be able to be a good boyfriend to her. Ginny deserved better than him, a boy who carried far too much baggage from the war. And Ginny, being the wonderful friend she was, understood. She had let him go, and after a while, she thanked him for it. If she hadn't broken up with him, she had told him one night, then she never would have discovered her feelings for a beautiful, blonde Ravenclaw. And now, Luna and Gin were dating and perfectly happy. And Harry was glad.

"But Gin, if Malfoy is planning something, then that is important! I have to find out what he is up to. If it turns out to be nothing, I'll leave him alone. Simple." Harry was determined to foil Malfoy's plans.

"Nothing is ever simple with you and Malfoy," Ginny murmured, but Harry didn't hear her.

Harry was watching Malfoy. When their eyes met, Malfoy raised his eyebrow, so Harry smirked at him. He wanted Malfoy to know Harry was onto him. Harry was delighted when Malfoy looked pained. Suddenly, the main courses disappeared, and the usual desserts took their places. Harry was promptly distracted by the treacle tarts.

When they had eaten their fill, the plates disappeared, and McGonagall dismissed them. They all stood, ready to get to their common rooms and beds for a good night's sleep. Ron and Hermione were no longer prefects - 8th years were not allowed to be prefects, head boy or girl, or part of the quidditch teams. Harry understood. Technically, they weren't supposed to be there at all, so it made sense that they should not be allowed to hold positions that they wouldn't have held if they had been able to graduate. In any case, Hermione and Ron no longer had to lead the first years to the common room, which was good since that was no longer their common room.

They loitered around in the Great Hall, waiting for McGonagall to lead them to their new quarters. After wrapping up a conversation with Flitwick, she turned towards the 8th years and clapped once to gain their attention. "Follow me, if you please." She led them out of the Hall and down one of the stairs. As they moved along, Harry had a sneaking suspicion of where they were going. Sure enough, they stopped at a corridor in the dungeons, halfway from the Slytherin common room to Snape's classroom. McGonagall said the password (unity) to a very haughty looking portrait of an old man in formal robes, and they filed in.

Well, at least I won't be late for potions. Harry was not looking forward to spending the rest of his year underneath the Black Lake. And in such close proximity to the Slytherins and Snape. Things were not looking good for his final year.

When Harry had received his letter, he was elated. A final year at the place he had always considered his home? There was no question as to whether or not he would go. Even with the memories from the final battle, it was a chance he could not pass up. All he had to do was avoid the Forest, and he would be fine. But now, he was reconsidering. He didn't want to be so close to the snake's den. And Malfoy and his minions looked far too pleased with this arrangement for it to be a good thing.

Harry reluctantly followed the headmistress into their new common room. It had a monochrome theme, so as not to favor any one house over the others. The couches and armchairs were black leather, the carpet was gray, and the walls were white. The stone surrounding the fireplace was a light gray as well. Harry thought it looked quite nice. It was certainly better than trying to mash all the house colors together. McGonagall gestured to the right.

"This way is the boy's dormitories. On the left are the girl's dorms. Under no circumstances will you be allowed to switch. Each room will have four inhabitants, and I expect you all to get along. You must set an example for your younger peers." She looked at them severely over her glasses. "Since you are responsible adults, you do not have a curfew. However, I expect that you will not be running about the halls making noise and disturbing the other students after their curfew. If this becomes an issue, your privilege will be revoked. You may have 7th and 6th years in your common room, but they must adhere to their curfew and will not be allowed to sleep over here. Do I make myself clear?"

Every student nodded. They knew by now that McGonagall was not someone to mess with.

"Good. Your room assignments are next to the fireplace. No switching." And with that, she swept out of the room.

All the 8th years looked at each other, and then there was a mad dash for the fireplace. Every student was jostling to see who they would be rooming with.

Harry managed to reach the front of the group, Ron beside him. Ron groaned. "Bloody fantastic. I'm with Zabini and Macmillan. At least Neville will be there to keep me sane. And alive." Harry was too busy looking for his own name to listen to Ron. He scanned the list and finally spotted his name. Next to it was:

Anthony Goldstein  
Theodore Nott  
Draco Malfoy

Harry groaned and cursed. How did he end up with two Slytherins and a Ravenclaw he barely knew? Why on earth did McGonagall think putting him with Malfoy was going to be a good idea? He and Ron were shoved out of the way.

"Not Potter!" A familiar voice drawled next to his ear. Malfoy was standing next to him, looking at the list with a scandalized expression. When he noticed Harry looking, he sneered at him. "This year will be fun, won't it Potter?" Malfoy smirked.

Harry wholeheartedly disagreed.

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Draco's heart was racing. Why did he have to be with Potter of all people? Goldstein was a prick, but Nott knew about Draco. Specifically that he was gay. Theo had always been a friend to Draco. Maybe not as close as Pansy and Blaise, but he was still a good friend. Draco was glad someone would sympathize with him.

He turned to Pansy. She was smirking at him. He knew exactly what she was so pleased about, but he gave her a look that plainly said, not here. So instead, he asked her, "Who are you with?"

She rolled her eyes. "I'm stuck with Abbot, Bulstrode, and Granger." She shuddered. "Not one out of the lot of them knows a thing about looking decent. They'll suck the fashion sense right out of me!"

Draco chuckled. "Pans, no one can take away your fashion sense. It's too ingrained into you. If anything, you'll have them all looking like supermodels in no time."

Pansy gave him an incredulous look. "As if Granger could be a model with that hair! And Bulstrode, with her horrid nose and awful eyebrows. Abbott has a chance, maybe. But I refuse to get near a girl that positively exudes hufflepuffiness."

Draco rolled his eyes and pulled Pansy away. When they were in a somewhat secluded area of the common room, she gave him a searching look and asked quietly, "Will you be alright?"

Draco swallowed and began examining the wall. It was a nice wall, all sturdy and supportive. At least the ceiling wasn't going to fall on him anytime soon. Shame, that.

"Draco?" Pansy's voice was concerned.

He finally looked at her, nodding. "I'll be fine. It's no big deal. The worst thing will be if he decides to walk around shirtless."

Pansy smirked. "Would that really be so bad, Draco? I'm almost positive he's hiding some gorgeous abs underneath those ridiculously large clothes he wears."

Draco tried not to think about it, he really did. Pushing all thoughts of Potter's abs far back in his head, he gave Pansy a stern look. "Yes, it really would be so bad. Imagine if he found out, I'd be the laughingstock of the entire school!"

Pansy gave him a soft look. "He's too noble for that. And don't worry, Gryffindorks are far too prudish to walk around half-naked, however delightful it would be."

Draco was not convinced. But, he was tired, so he bade Pansy goodnight and walked off to his doom - dorm, I mean.

He pushed open the door to find Potter, walking around with a towel around his waist. Shirtless.

He bit back a groan of frustration and mentally cursed Pansy with every dark spell he knew. Neither Goldstein nor Theo were in the dorm, so he was free to ogle Potter's muscled back. Until he turned around, that is.

Potter jumped and scowled at him. "Next time, knock! I thought you purebloods had manners!"

It was all Draco could do to drag his eyes away from Potter's admittedly deliciously lean, muscled body to his eyes, heated with anger. Draco smirked and leaned against the doorframe. He allowed himself one more look at Potter's body, disguised as a dismissive glance. Desire pooled in his gut, but he forced it down so it wouldn't show in his eyes.

"There's no need to knock when I'm sleeping here, Potter," he drawled. "Or did you forget that even the Golden Boy doesn't get a room all to himself?"

Potter opened his mouth to retort, but instead closed it and turned around to rummage in his trunk. He pulled out some clothes and stalked over to the bathroom, slamming the door shut.

Draco nearly sagged in relief. He pushed himself off of the doorframe and walked over to the furthest bed from Potter's, dumping his stuff on it. He collapsed on the bed and drew the curtains to gain some privacy. He was going to kill Pansy.


	6. Chapter 5

Harry was pissed. Didn't he deserve to spend one year, just one, in peace? He was annoyed with McGonagall. Couldn't he have at least been with at least one Gryffindor? He understood and admired her push for unity, but he felt much less gracious when it meant he had to sleep in the same room as Draco Malfoy.

He decided that he would take a quick shower to unwind before he had to sleep. He needed to relax.

As Harry stepped under the steaming water, he felt his muscles loosen. He sighed in contentment. He took far longer than necessary, but he felt like he deserved to be a little selfish. When he turned the water off, he walked out of the shower only to realize he had forgotten to bring a change of clothes. Damn. Harry wrapped his towel around his waist and poked his head out of the en-suite bathroom. He was surprised to see that the room was still empty. Feeling much less uncomfortable, he walked out and over to his trunk. But as he was about to lean down to grab some pajamas, he felt a draft of cold air on his still-damp skin. Harry turned, startled.

Draco Malfoy stood there, looking at him. More specifically, his body. Harry didn't like it when people looked at his body. He hated seeing the pity in their eyes when they realized how skinny and underfed he was. So he fell back to his natural defense mechanism. Anger.

"Next time, knock! I thought you purebloods had manners!" He said angrily.

But Malfoy only smirked at him, glancing over him once more. "There's no need to knock when I'm sleeping here, Potter," he drawled. "Or did you forget that even the Golden Boy doesn't get a room all to himself?"

Harry was about to snap back a reply when he realized that Draco had not commented on his malnourished state. He closed his mouth, suddenly eager to escape. He grabbed his pajamas from his trunk and walked to the bathroom, slamming the door for dramatic effect. He took his time changing, hoping that Malfoy would bugger off in the meanwhile.

When he opened the door again, he was relieved to see that Malfoy's curtains were shut. He walked over to his own bed and clambered in, closing the curtains and rolling over, punching his pillow into a more comfortable shape. Sleep followed quickly, thank Merlin.

But what seemed like only minutes later, he was no longer thanking Merlin. His head was filled with images from the battle, bloody corpses screaming out his name and asking why he hadn't gone to the forest sooner.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat. At least it seemed like he hadn't screamed. That would have been embarrassing. The curtains suddenly felt they were suffocating him, and he ripped them open. The room was dark, and all the other beds were occupied, curtains shut. Harry stumbled out of his bed and groped blindly in his trunk for his map and invisibility cloak. After finding them, he swiftly walked to the door, opening and closing it as quietly as possible. He strode through the empty common room and exited to the dungeons. He felt much better in the cold, drafty corridors. He felt more awake now.

Harry knew there would be repercussions for coming to Hogwarts when his last memories of it had been filled with death, including his own. He could only be glad that it meant nothing more than the continuation of his nightmares, even though they seemed to be getting only worse.

Checking the map to make sure he wouldn't run into anyone, he wandered about the corridors under his cloak. With a start, he remembered that he no longer needed to sneak about; the 8th years were not forbidden from being out of bed in the middle of the night. Still, Harry preferred not to run into anyone, so he kept the cloak on.

After a few hours, he made his way back to the common room. Casting a quick tempus, he discovered that it was nearly three 'o clock in the morning. He snuck quietly back to his room and chucked the map and cloak in his trunk before falling on top of his bed and immediately succumbing to slumber.

When Harry awoke the next morning, he was absolutely drained. He dragged himself out of bed and to the bathrooms. After taking a quick piss and brushing his teeth, he felt much more alive. He changed into his school robes, which no longer were in Gryffindor colors. Instead, all the 8th years had black and white striped ties and no patch indicating membership to a house. Harry walked back into the room to find that Nott was trying to wake up Malfoy, who was being an absolute drama queen. Goldstein had already left for breakfast.

As Harry was walking out the door, he heard Nott say, "Draco, if you don't get up now, we'll be late for breakfast!"

Malfoy mumbled something and buried his face into his pillow. Harry got the inexplicable urge to walk back in there and dump a pitcher of cold water on the git. But he refrained, if only because he knew Malfoy would get him back worse later on. And Harry did not fancy having a raging Slytherin plotting his demise, as Malfoy would undoubtedly do if Harry ruined his hair like that.

As Harry was walking down the boy's hall, a door opened, and Ron rushed out of his dorm, Zabini's amused drawl following him. "Come back, Weasely! I don't bite unless you want me to!"

Ron shuddered and fell in step with Harry. "That slimy Slytherin has been making innuendoes since last night. He does it with all of us, it's a bloody nightmare!"

Harry laughed. Ron glared at him but was distracted by Hermione rushing up to meet them.

"Let's go, boys! They'll be handing out our timetables at breakfast!"

Hermione pulled them along with her surprising strength. Ron was happy to get to breakfast faster, and Harry followed along amiably. They made their way up to the Great Hall and sat down at their usual spots at the Gryffindor table. Harry began spooning scrambled eggs into his plate and swiped a couple of pieces of bacon. Ron filled his own plate until it was heaping, and then he doused everything with maple syrup and started shoveling the ungodly mixture into his mouth.

Hermione was practically bouncing in her seat as McGonagall came around with the timetables. When she passed Harry his, he quickly scanned it. Today was potions (cue pained groan), then Herbology, Defense, and finally Transfiguration. All the 8th years had their classes together, so they all had the same timetables unless you were a genius like Hermione and were taking a bunch of extra classes.

After breakfast, the trio made a quick detour to their dorms to grab their books, then walked the short distance to Snape's classroom.

"Do you think he'll be annoyed that he was forced to teach potions again?" Ron whispered.

Harry nodded. Most likely, he would be so annoyed that he would take points left and right, and he said as much. Slughorn had, unfortunately, left after the battle, saying he was too old to handle such excitement anymore.

"Teachers can't take points from us, Harry," was Hermione's immediate reply. "Since we no longer belong to a house, there's no way to take points from us."

Harry and Ron shared delighted looks. No longer could Snape take points from Gryffindors for the most ridiculous of reasons. It was a dream come true.

"That may be true, Miss Granger, but that logic fortunately does not apply to detentions." Snape's familiar drawl sounded from behind them, and they stiffened in surprise. "Now get in my classroom before I mark you all late."

They hurried into the room and sat down in the only available seats - Ron was next to Macmillan, Hermione next to Parkinson, and Harry found himself next to Malfoy, who immediately shot him a glare.

Snape swept to the front of the room. "These are your permanent seats for the rest of the year. I will know if you attempt to switch, so do not try or you will automatically fail. You will be brewing the highly complex Animagus potion. It will force the drinker to reveal the form they would take if they put in the considerable work needed to become an animagus. No doubt, most of you will brew a far weaker form that will simply cause a mirage of the form to appear. A true animagus potion would force the drinker to become their animagus form for a few minutes before reverting back to a normal state. However-" he surveyed the class with his trademark sneer. "I do not expect any of you to even come close to that with the skill level some," and here his gaze landed on Harry and moved to Neville, "-of you have shown. I advise you to read the instructions carefully before you start. This potion will likely take you more than one class to brew. Now turn to page 394 and begin."

Harry turned to the page in his potions book. He looked over the ingredients list. Most of it was generic potions ingredients, but some things - toenails of an ogre, werewolf's hair, and pickled newt's tails - were a bit stranger. Harry got up to go to the ingredients cupboard, but a hand snaked around his wrist and tugged him back down.

"Did you listen at all, Potter? Snape said to read the instructions before starting! Honestly, it's like giving instructions to a deaf man."

Harry blushed and looked back down at the book. Then he realized Malfoy was still holding his wrist. He looked over to him.

Malfoy noticed him looking. "What now, Potter?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "If you don't mind, Malfoy, I would quite like my hand back." It was Malfoy's turn to blush, and he let go of Harry's wrist like it had burned him. Harry went back to his book.

Heat Dragon's blood in your cauldron until it boils. Add in leaves of the plant known as Circe's Desire. Stir seven times clockwise.

That seemed simple enough. He read the next line.

Let sit and boil for 30 seconds exactly, then add in 17 Toenails of an Ogre. Wait five seconds, then stir twice, first clockwise, then counter-clockwise.

He was getting bored. He read on.

Next, add in 10 Werewolf hairs. It is vital you do not remain exposed to them for more than 5 seconds; otherwise you may be subject to aggressive feelings directed at the nearest individual. Effects may not surface for several hours. It is recommended you wait until the last possible minute to get this ingredient, as it will reduce the chances of accidental exposure. Let sit and boil for five minutes.

Well, that explained it. Harry skimmed over the next few instructions, and seeing nothing else of import, turned to Malfoy, raising an eyebrow. "May I get the ingredients now, your highness? I promise I won't get the werewolf hairs until your majesty demands it of me." He gave Malfoy a fake pleading look, even batting his eyelashes for dramatic effect.

Malfoy looked startled, but his expression quickly turned supercilious. "Yes, peasant, you may retrieve the ingredients now. I'm glad you have learned your place."

Harry got up quickly to disguise his surprise at Malfoy playing along. He had expected him to snap or tell him to quit goofing off. He found that he quite liked how laid back this new Malfoy was.

Careful. One time doesn't mean he's changed.

Yes, his inner voice was right. Just because Malfoy acted strangely this one time, didn't mean it would be a recurring event. Harry made sure to lower any expectations he had. He retrieved the ingredients, except for the werewolf hair, and dumped them on the desk he shared with Malfoy. Malfoy had already started to heat up their cauldron, and he quickly snatched up the Dragon's blood and measured it out before pouring it into the cauldron. After a minute, Malfoy held out his hand, palm up, and said, "Circe's Desire."

Harry rolled his eyes. As he handed over the plant, he said, "Would it kill you to say please, Malfoy?"

Malfoy didn't reply. He stirred the cauldron, and Harry could hear him counting under his breath. When he reached seven, he stopped and looked at Harry.

"Toenails of the Ogre, please."

Harry nearly dropped the toenails. He hadn't expected Malfoy to actually listen. Had Malfoy really changed?

"Hurry up, you peasant!"

Evidently not. And yet, Harry found himself wanting to smile at Malfoy's insult, almost like it was a joke between them.

But then he remembered he was meant to keep an eye on Malfoy, so he didn't smile.

When class ended, they had made the most progress, even more than Parkinson and Hermione, who looked disappointed. Snape merely dismissed them, telling them they would continue next class.

The trio made their way to their next class, Herbology. Thankfully, Professor Sprout gave them the simple task of calming down the Fluttermy plants. It was easy, but since the timid little shoots needed a lot of coaxing, it didn't allow for much conversation.

Harry, Hermione, and Ron made their way up to the castle for lunch.

"What do you think Malfoy is planning?" Harry asked casually over the chicken pot pie he was eating.

Ron and Hermione shared a glance. Hermione turned back to him.

"We don't think Malfoy is planning anything, Harry. He seems different. He hasn't done anything out of the ordinary at all."

Harry turned to Ron, who rolled his eyes and said, "He hasn't even bullied the first years. He's changed, mate. We all have."

But Harry refused to let it go. He stared at Malfoy, almost boring holes into his head. As if he could sense Harry's gaze, Malfoy looked up. Instead of giving him his trademark sneer, or even a simple glare, Malfoy just looked at him before he turned away to talk to Zabini.

And if that wasn't the most telling thing Harry had seen, he didn't know what was.


	7. Chapter 6

"He won't stop watching me!" Draco whined to Blaise. Blaise rolled his eyes.

"So what? It's not like you don't enjoy it. You love having his attention. It's why you keep annoying him." Blaise didn't even look at Draco.

He turned to Pansy. "What do I do? I can't eat with him distracting me like this. I wish he would stop. Why is he staring at me? What on earth does he want? Why-"

Pansy looked up at Potter, sighed heavily, and shoved a forkful of spaghetti into Draco's mouth, effectively shutting him up. Blaise sighed in relief.

"Just stop thinking about it, Draco. He's obviously not planning on stopping any time soon, so just ignore him."

Draco gave her a look and chewed the spaghetti as fast as his mannered upbringing would allow. When he finally swallowed the last bits, he started whining again. "I can't just ignore him! I can feel him looking at me-"

"Fine!" Pansy snapped. She turned to glare at Potter. After a few seconds, he looked away. Pansy turned back to Draco. "See? Problem solved. Now shut up and eat."

Draco did as he was told, as anyone with sense does when faced with an annoyed Pansy.

————————————————————————

Parkinson was staring at him with a positively nasty look on her face. Harry quickly looked away. He wondered why she was so upset. It looked like she was feeding Malfoy earlier. Maybe she was Malfoy's girlfriend, and she was trying to defend him or something. Harry didn't know why, but that thought made him want to strangle the girl.

After lunch, Harry and his friends made their way up to the Defense classroom. The new teacher was an old witch named Professor Magworst. And her name said it all. She was the worst. Though Umbridge would always hold the special title of "Worst DADA teacher ever," Magworst was a close second. Or third, because Harry had nearly forgotten Lockhart. Anyways, Magworst spent the entire first lesson going over spells and facts they had learned in 6th year with Snape. And she frequently mixed up her information. Harry was incredulous when she said that boggarts suck out your souls, and dementors turn into your happiest thoughts. He was disappointed that they had yet another useless teacher, but he supposed there was really not much anyone could teach him about defeating dark wizards at this point. Still, he hoped that Dumbledore's Army wouldn't make a comeback. He wanted a nice, peaceful year, and teaching the DA was anything but.

After their uneventful lesson, they rushed to Transfiguration. McGonagall tested the limits of their skills and memory when she asked them to transfigure a fish into a bird of their choice. By the end of the lesson, Harry had a sparrow with a dorsal fin, Ron had a flamingo with gills, and Hermione had a perfectly beautiful finch. Malfoy was sitting with a proud eagle owl on his shoulder, also without fault.

Harry was worn out. He collapsed into one of the sofas in the common room, Ron not far behind him. Hermione bustled in, arms full of books and parchment.

"Look, you two. I know Snape and McGonagall were the only two to assign us homework, but you mustn't slack off! Come, let's get to work on our Transfiguration essay."

Ron groaned and voiced Harry's thoughts for him. He made a mental note to thank him when he regained enough energy to speak.   
"Mione, the essay isn't due until next week. Chill. It's the first day, and we deserve to slack off."

"Fine," she said stiffly. "But don't come running to me when you haven't started the essay by Sunday." Ron just sank further down into the couch.

After a while, they mustered the energy to drag Hermione away from her essay and up to dinner. They ate slowly and dragged their feet all the way back down to their dorms. Harry collapsed onto his bed and fell asleep without even changing.

Harry was awoken by nightmares for the second night in a row. It was getting to be an issue. How was he supposed to do anything when he wasn't getting any rest? He got up, snagging his cloak and map before slipping out of the room. As he walked down the hall, he heard voices coming from the common room. He quickly donned the cloak, intent on passing the occupants without disturbing them.

"Draco, darling, talk to me."

Harry stopped. That voice belonged to Parkinson, he was sure of it. He tiptoed closer until he could see the common room. Malfoy was lying with his head in Parkinson's lap, her fingers threading through his platinum blonde hair. Harry felt a stab of something go through him. It unsettled him. He shouldn't feel a stab of anything except disgust when confronted with such a sight.

Malfoy sighed but stayed silent.

"Is it about him, dear?" Parkinson asked gently. Malfoy nodded. Harry wondered who it was before he realized it was none of his business. He began sneaking towards the door, hoping neither of the Slytherins would hear him.

"I wish this stupid crush would just go away. I wish I could just ignore him and get on with my life."

Harry stopped, and all his good intentions deserted him. Malfoy had a crush? And on a bloke? Was Malfoy- was he-? Harry couldn't bring himself to even think it. The perfect pureblood Slytherin prince, attracted to males? The possibility had never crossed Harry's mind. But now he wanted to know. Who did Malfoy have a crush on?

"I know, sweetie. But you can't keep doing this. If you can't even sleep at night because of him, then it's a problem. You need to get him off your mind. Why don't you try dating someone else? Maybe you'll find that you like them better?"

Malfoy sat up. "There is no one else, Pans. There can never be anyone else. Just him. Always him. But I more of a chance of spontaneously becoming straight than I do of getting him to go out with me."

Parkinson sighed. "I know, honey. But there's always a chance. Please try to sleep now. We have lessons tomorrow."

Harry realized with a start that if Malfoy went back to find that Harry's bed was empty, he would quickly be able to figure out that Harry had slipped out sometime during his conversation with Pansy. Harry hurried back to the dorm as quietly as possible, slipping in and throwing the cloak and map back into his trunk. He tried to lay down in a similar position to the one he woke up in. He was still, heart racing, as he heard the door open and shut quietly. He heard rustling as Malfoy went back to his bed, then the sounds of the curtain being shut, and finally only the sound of breathing. Harry lay in bed, relieved, thinking about what he had heard.

Did Malfoy really- was he really-? Harry tried to imagine Malfoy with another bloke. Kissing another bloke. That same feeling he had felt in the common room shot through him again. At least he knew now that Malfoy wasn't dating Parkinson. But why did that knowledge soothe the angry feeling in his chest? And why did the thought of Malfoy being with some random bloke only make it worse? This was far too much for his sleep-deprived brain to handle. He drifted off, thoughts of Malfoy and this newest realization filling his head.

————————————————————————

Draco snuck back into his room. He walked over to his bed, stealing a glance at Potter, who was peacefully sleeping with the curtains open. Draco slid into his bed, making sure to close his own curtains. He stopped himself from sighing. This whole Potter-crush business was wearing him out. He almost wished the mask of dislike he put on for Potter was real.

The next morning, Draco awoke feeling groggy and cranky. He snapped at Theo when he asked him if they wanted to go breakfast together and spent nearly an hour in the bathroom trying to make himself look decent. Draco had stopped using product, but that didn't mean he let his hair run wild either. He carefully brushed and combed his hair into sexy perfection, taking care to put every strand in its place. He was almost jealous of Potter, who pulled off his messy bird's nest far too well for it to be fair.

Draco pulled on his robes, smoothing out the nonexistent wrinkles, and checked his reflection once more to be sure.

"You look wonderful, dearie." His mirror assured him.

He declined to reply and dragged himself out of the bathroom, slowly making his way up to the Great Hall.

"Morning, darling!" An arm wound itself around his own arm. Pansy's enthusiastic greeting made Draco flinch. He glared at her and grumbled.

"You look like absolute shit, sweetie," Pansy said bluntly, stepping back to examine his face. "Is this because of last night? Were you able to sleep afterward?"

Draco nodded. He had slept, even if it had taken him a few hours to slip into blessed unconsciousness. He walked into the doors of the Great Hall and headed towards the Slytherin table, Pansy trailing behind him. Draco plopped down on the bench next to Blaise, and Pansy sat down across from him.

"Good morning," Blaise greeted him. Draco just groaned, pouring himself a glass of pumpkin juice. Blaise turned to Pansy and raised an eyebrow. She just shrugged in response.

"I hate Potter," Draco announced.

"We know, Draco. You've only told us about a million times." Blaise was clearly not aware of the depths of his hatred for Potter. If he had been, he would not be treating this so lightly.

"But, I really hate Potter." Draco clarified.

"No, you don't, darling. You hate that he's straight, and you hate that he's hot, and you hate that you're attracted to him, and you hate that you can't sleep because he's right there in the same room, but you most certainly do not hate Potter." Pansy said calmly, buttering her toast.

"No, but I actually hate him." Draco wanted to make sure he got his point across. Obviously, his friends weren't getting it.

This time Blaise patted his hand sympathetically before offering him meaningless platitudes. "Sure, Draco, whatever you say." Draco almost opened his mouth to express his feelings for Potter once more, but Pansy shoved a croissant into his mouth. He glared. He really needed to make sure this didn't end up as a recurring theme of their mealtimes. Draco spent the rest of breakfast silently ranting about Potter in his head, because clearly, no one else would listen, and not looking at Potter. Not once. Not even that one time.

Afterward, he made his way to Care of Magical Creatures, taught by that oaf, Hagrid. The air was still warm with the fading summer light. Draco despised winter. It was far too cold, and the snow only made him look paler. At least autumn was bearable.

When he reached the awful hut that belonged to the half-giant, he found that he was early. He shied away from the open boxes that no doubt held some of the deplorable creatures their incompetent teacher so adored. With a sort of detached interest, he began scrutinizing the pumpkin patch. This year, it seemed, they would have some impressively large pumpkins for the Halloween feast.

He heard the chatter of students as his classmates began arriving. He did not turn to join them but stayed near the pumpkin patch. No one would want him interrupting their conversations anyways.

Soon, the door of the run-down hut banged open, and the half-giant came out, struggling to carry a massive bag of what looked horribly like flobberworms. Potter, the massive idiot, stepped forward to help. The two of them together managed to get the flobberworms out successfully.

"Righ' then." Hagrid straightened up. "Today, yer goin' to be feedin' these here flobberworms to the baby Horgwallows. They don' need much, a few fer each o' them'll do. Partner up, now. One of yeh will have to hold down the Horgwallow an' open its mouth. The other'll have to feed it the flobberworms one a' a time."

Draco was mildly horrified. Any creature that had to be held down to be fed was not okay in his books. He turned to Pansy, but she was already with Bulstrode. Blaise had gone and partnered with Longbottom. He glared at his supposed friends. As surveyed his peers, he noted that Granger and the Weasel were standing together, giving Potter apologetic looks. As he stood looking around, more and more of his classmates partnered up, leaving him and-

Potter. Of course. Draco arched his eyebrow at the boy, who was looking at him with a resigned expression. Draco held back a sigh of frustration and strode over to the Gryffindor. The universe truly hated him.

"Well, Potter? Shall we get started?" Draco asked coolly. Potter turned and walked to the nearest unclaimed box, Draco close behind him.

The Horgwallow was a disgusting creature, somehow scaly and covered in bristles at the same time. It had a long snout, with nostrils that were dripping with some unidentified goo. Draco was not eager to find out what it was. It had a long, curved tail with small nubs on it. Draco shuddered. Then, the creature opened its ridiculously tiny mouth and wailed loudly.

Draco stared at it. "How in Merlin's name are we meant to give it the flobberworms? They're thrice as large as that thing's mouth!"

Potter shrugged. "I suppose we could just go for it and see what happens."

Draco sneered. Trust Potter to rush into a possibly dangerous situation without a plan. It was no small wonder that he was still alive. But then again, Draco didn't exactly have any better ideas.

He nodded at Potter. "You hold it down. I'll give it the worm." Potter looked scandalized. "Why should I be the one to hold it down, Malfoy? You do it!" Draco just barely kept himself from rolling his eyes. "You're closer, Potter," he retorted. "Now stop arguing so we can get this over with."

Thankfully, Potter did as he was told for once and held the Horgwallow down, prying open its mouth at the same time. But just as Draco had picked up one of the slimy worms and was about to lower it into the small mouth, the creature gave a violent jerk and squirmed out of Potter's grip, splattering Draco with the mysterious goo in the process. Draco shrieked and spluttered.

"Potter! You had one simple job! What, did you not get enough sleep last night? Is your brain too tired to even complete this simple task? Or are you just that incompetent?" Draco snarled at him. He hadn't noticed the bags under Potter's eyes until that moment, but he realized that what he said might have held some truth.

Potter started. Then, interestingly enough, a blush stained his cheeks, turning them a dark red. Draco looked at him suspiciously.

"I'm fine! I didn't think you'd be so concerned for my health, Malfoy." The other boy snapped back. "I didn't realize the bloody thing was so strong. I'll be more prepared this time." Potter wrestled the creature down again. Draco mumbled about not being concerned about Potter's health, but the other boy ignored him. He also wanted to know what had made Potter blush, but he wanted to be done with the exercise more. So, he slowly brought the flobberworm closer to the ugly animal. It jerked again, but Potter, true to his word, held it in place. As the worm neared the Horgwallow's mouth, the opening suddenly enlarged until Draco could easily drop the flobberworm in. The creature appeared to swallow it whole. They repeated the process a few more times, then deemed themselves finished.

Hagrid dismissed the class, and Draco turned to find Potter so he could needle him about the blushing, only to find the boy back with his friends and heading up to the castle. Draco gazed after him, but just shook himself after a minute and hurried to catch up with Pansy and Blaise.


	8. Chapter 7

Harry had made a mistake. Malfoy had innocently ribbed him about not sleeping the previous night, and his mind immediately shot to the conversation he had eavesdropped on. Before he knew it, the blood was rushing to his face. He felt bad for overhearing what was clearly meant to be a private conversation. Not to mention that he had been reminded of Malfoy's inclinations.

Now he couldn't concentrate. His brain kept wandering off to things he didn't want to be thinking about. His eyes slid over to stare at the blonde head a couple of rows in front of him. He idly wondered if Malfoy had ever dated anyone before. Bad brain. He dragged his mind back to the very boring History of Magic lesson he was supposed to be paying attention to. Like he cared about the names of each and every Vampire coven in the 1500s. Only Hermione was paying any attention at all to Binns, scribbling away furiously on a sheet of parchment.

Harry looked out the window longingly at the grounds, wishing he was outside playing quidditch. His mind drifted again. Had Malfoy ever kissed anyone? What was it like, kissing a bloke? It would, of course, be different from kissing a girl, though it wasn't like Harry had much experience with that either. There was Cho, but that had been absolutely awful. And Gin, but she was more like a sister to him now. A guy wouldn't be as soft as a girl, with no breasts and narrower hips- What was he doing? Harry nearly snapped his quill. He berated his misbehaving mind and forced himself to take notes and concentrate. Ron gave him an incredulous glance when he began writing, but didn't comment. Harry found it very difficult to avoid looking at the blonde-headed boy that was sitting tantalizingly in the corner of his vision.

After class, Harry hurriedly packed his things and rushed out of the room, barely stopping to wait for Ron and Hermione. Hermione gave him a delighted look. "Harry, I noticed you were taking notes today. I'm so happy you're finally taking an interest in your studies." She turned to Ron and gave him an appraising look. "Now, if only you would start paying attention. Honestly, Ronald, this stuff is important! You ought to listen to him; you never know when this stuff will come up again..."

Harry turned her out. He ignored Ron's questioning and slightly indignant look. He was far too busy trying to forget where his mind had wandered to during class. As they made their way down to lunch, Hermione prattled on about the importance of studying and how the information they learned now was going to be important later on and the like. Harry and Ron had found that when Hermione was like this, it was better to just nod along and tune her out, so she didn't get upset. Hermione was still talking as they settled down to eat.

"Mione," Ron finally interrupted. "Please let us eat. I promise I'll pay attention next lesson." Hermione looked a bit upset at being cut off but was placated by Ron's promise. They began to eat, listening to the conversations around them. Neville and Dean were having a discussion about some new plant that apparently ate birds, Lavender was telling Parvati and a very bored Seamus all about the latest and greatest in fashion, and Ginny was talking to some of her fellow 7th years about lessons. Ron looked a bit ill at that.

"I swear, sometimes she takes after Percy. Mind, don't tell her I said that." Ron looked a bit terrified at the thought of what Ginny would do to him if she ever found out he had compared her to Percy. Harry chuckled. Just then, he caught a flash of blonde hair heading towards the Slytherin table, and his mood soured. He did not want to think about Malfoy just then. He scowled at the blonde.

Malfoy looked up and immediately caught his eye. The grey gaze locked on his for a second, then the Slytherin was looking at anything but him. Harry's scowl deepened. Malfoy was acting suspiciously. Harry decided that today was the day to follow him and see what he was up to. The moment the Slytherin finished eating, Harry turned to Ron and Hermione.

"I have to go do something. I'll meet you guys in Charms class, alright?" Without waiting for an answer, Harry got up and hurried out of the Great Hall, making sure not to lose Malfoy. He followed the blonde head down a corridor and up some stairs. The Slytherin went around a corner and-

"Petrificus Totalus!" A voice that did not belong to Malfoy rang out. Harry paused, then peeked around the corner to see what was happening. A group of 7th years, mostly Gryffindors and Ravenclaws, but with a few Hufflepuffs as well, had their wands out. They were all aiming at Malfoy, who was keeled over on the ground. Harry couldn't see his expression from the angle he had, but he imagined Malfoy's angry glare well enough. He had been on the receiving end of it more than a few times.

A Gryffindor stepped forward. Harry vaguely recognized him from two years ago as a rather obnoxious fellow, always boasting in the common room about his various feats. Harry doubted any of his stories were true. To be honest, the bloke reminded him of Lockhart, only slightly more intelligent. The student sneered at Malfoy and kicked his leg.

"Not so tough now, huh Malfoy? Your Death Eater pals aren't here anymore to back you up, isn't that right? You were sleeping in your comfortable room, while we were stuck being tortured in the dungeons! You even took part in it, you piece of nasty filth! How dare you come back here and show your face around those you helped to harm? You deserve every single thing we are about to do to you. And-" the younger student leaned down to whisper dangerously in Malfoy's ear, though his voice carried enough that Harry was still able to hear. "What's more is that you think you deserve it too. You know that whatever we do to you will never be enough." And with that, he signaled the others to begin their assault. They took turns hexing Malfoy, jeering and shouting insults all the while. Malfoy couldn't move, still under the effects of the first Petrificus Totalus.

Harry felt a blinding fury erupt inside of him. He whipped out his wand and charged around the corner, yelling, "STOP!" The gaggle of students jumped and turned to see Harry Potter running at them, eyes flashing angrily and magic crackling about him dangerously. They fled, the lead Gryffindor aiming one last kick at Malfoy before running off.

Harry aimed a spell at the student, but his hand was shaking from anger, and he missed. He growled at the cowards, turning back to Malfoy, who was still on the floor. He recited the countercurse and swished his wand, allowing Malfoy to stand up. Harry eyed him, checking for major injuries.

"Are you alright?" He asked carefully. He didn't want to offend Malfoy. Malfoy nodded but didn't look at him. Instead, he mumbled something and inspected his shoes.

"What was that?" Harry asked, slightly annoyed. He was beginning to wonder why he had helped Malfoy.

"I said, thank you!" Malfoy snapped. Then he turned to walk away. Harry was stunned. This was the second time in two days Malfoy had been polite to him. He wondered if the world was going to end, then decided that he hadn't defeated an evil mastermind only for the world to die just months later. Malfoy reached the end of the hallway and turned the corner, leaving Harry standing there alone.

"You're welcome," he muttered under his breath and checked the time. Realizing he would be late if he didn't head to class, he took off in the same direction as Malfoy. Nevertheless, he arrived a minute late, sliding into his seat next to Hermione, panting and out of breath. Flitwick gave him a baleful look but continued his lecture, and Hermione gave him a concerned glance. He could tell she wanted to know where he had been, but he looked forwards and feigned interest in the lecture. It was something about the theories of charming something for perpetual motion, and it didn't sound very interesting to Harry. He turned his thoughts back to the fight.

Recalling the student's words, he wondered what had prompted him to say them. Surely Malfoy was too haughty and proud to believe that his actions deserved punishment. It would be kind of like apologizing, and Merlin knew Malfoys never did that. But just then, Harry was suddenly accosted by a memory, words whispering through his mind.

"It's not as if we don't deserve it."

Hadn't Malfoy said that in the forest that day? And Harry remembered that he looked truly regretful at that moment. So did Malfoy think that his actions deserved punishment? Did he think that the student's actions were justified? Harry resolved to find out. Because whatever mistakes Malfoy had made, they were just that: mistakes. Malfoy regretted his actions, and that was enough for Harry. Besides, if they started attacking the former Death Eaters, then they would be no better then the monsters that terrorized them during the war. He vaguely recalled something McGonagall had said during the welcome speech about how outcasts always held grudges. And that was why Harry had seen fit to defend two out of three Malfoys. In addition to all of that 'doing the right thing' stuff.

As Harry sat there, lost in his own thoughts, Flitwick droned on and on. At least he was free after this lesson. He promised himself he would ask Ron if he wanted to go flying, and maybe Ginny could join them too. But he had to talk to Malfoy first. As soon as the lesson ended, he packed his things quickly and rushed over to Malfoy's desk. He cleared his throat to get his attention.

"Can we talk?" Harry asked cautiously. Malfoy looked at him blankly, then glanced at his friends before looking back at him and nodding.

"We'll wait outside, Draco," Parkinson assured him. She and Zabini were the last to walk out of the room. When the room was empty, Malfoy looked at Harry with an impassive expression.

"What do you want, Potter?" He asked evenly.

Harry gave Malfoy a once-over. "You sure you're not hurt?" He asked him and immediately regretted it because Malfoy stiffened and looked away.

"Yes, I'm fine, Potter. Is that all you wanted? Because if so-" Harry interrupted him, saying, "No, Malfoy, that's not what I wanted to talk to you about." Malfoy still didn't look at him, so he barreled on.

"I wanted to ask you, well- I wanted to ask...er," Harry stammered, unsure how to word his question.

"How very eloquent," Malfoy sneered. "Spit it out, Potter. Just ask so I can be rid of you sooner."

"Fine!" Harry snapped. Then, pinching the bridge of his nose between his fingers, he softened his voice so Malfoy wouldn't get bitchy. "I wanted to ask if what those idiots said was true."

Malfoy gave him a questioning look but thankfully didn't seem too angry. "What do you mean, Potter? They said quite a few truthful things."

Harry shot him an annoyed look. "Do you really think you deserve to pay for your mistakes?" He finally asked. Malfoy looked away, biting his lip, but didn't answer.

"Malfoy?" Harry probed. He was aware this could go down in flames any moment, but as long as their conversation remained civil, he was going to try to make the most of it.

Malfoy just sighed. "You do think that, don't you?" Harry asked angrily. Malfoy appeared startled at his sudden change of attitude.

"Yes, Potter. I do." Malfoy finally admitted softly. Though the look he gave Harry was pained, his gaze remained steady. "I deserve all this and more. My crimes were not petty. Truth be told, you should have let me go to Azkaban."

It was the first time they had spoken of the trial since it had ended. Harry recoiled at Malfoy's harsh words. "So you think I was an idiot for defending you? You think I just woke up that morning and decided, 'Oh, you know what, I'm feeling particularly glorious this fine morning! Malfoy's trial is today, you say? Maybe I should go there and spout some nonsense about what a great person he really is!'" Harry said, adopting a high, mocking voice. "Do you think I just go around flippantly change people's fates because I feel like it?" Harry was absolutely furious.

Malfoy was giving him an odd look and said in a strange voice, "No, Potter, that's not what I think. I simply meant that you focus far too much on the good in people. I am truly thankful for what you did for Mother, but I'm not sure I deserved the same kindness."

Harry deflated. How could Malfoy just think that Harry would speak for him without hours of careful consideration and deliberation, arguing with himself about whether the git deserved it or not? He tried to make Malfoy understand.

"Malfoy, I spent days wondering whether I was going the right thing. And in the end, all I did was tell the truth. No more, no less. And everyone deserves the truth. It was not I that saved you from Azkaban. I just brought to light certain facts that were not publicly known, and that was enough to convince the jury that you ultimately deserved your freedom."

Malfoy looked surprised at the end of his impromptu speech but gave Harry a curious look.

"Very well, Potter." Then, softer, "I thank you."

Harry started at the words he had heard for the second time that day. Malfoy cleared his throat, looking slightly embarrassed.

"Now, if that is all, Potter, my friends are waiting for me." Malfoy stood up and began walking to the door. Harry watched him go, wondering when on earth Malfoy had changed without him noticing.

————————————————————————

Draco wanted to kick himself. First, he had been an idiot, roaming the corridors alone, practically begging to be attacked. Second, he had let Potter come to his rescue, the bloody savior. And finally, he had admitted to Potter that he thought he should have gone to Azkaban. Clearly, his feelings were messing with his common sense. Now he understood why his father thought they were such dangerous things.

Pansy and Blaise had asked what Potter had wanted as soon as Draco exited the room, much to his chagrin. He hadn't told them about his attackers, and he had hoped he wouldn't have to. But he didn't see any way of getting out of it without lying, so he reluctantly told them about the events that had taken place before class. Pansy and Blaise were appropriately outraged.

"Who was it, Draco? Tell me so I can go murder them!" Pansy said in a voice that almost made Draco shiver in fear. It was at times like this that he remembered that Pansy knew just as much about the Dark Arts as he did.

"Calm down, Pans. I'm fine. And I have no idea who they are anyways, just some random 7th years." He assured the infuriated girl. She was nearly shaking with rage.

"I will not calm down, Draco! I refuse to allow this to happen to you. You don't deserve it!" Pansy nearly shrieked. Draco avoided her eyes and murmured, "Potter said much the same."

At this, Pansy forgot her fury for a moment. "Potter? That's what he wanted to talk to you about?" She asked shrewdly. Draco nodded.

Blaise gave him a knowing smirk. "Potter came to save your ass. And he told you you don't deserve to be hurt like that. It must be your lucky day." There were some warm, fuzzy feelings that had taken up residence in Draco's body, but that meant absolutely nothing.

"Potter was just doing the right thing, as always. You know how he is, protector of the weak and all. He probably thinks of me as some sort of sad charity case. The Death Eater who can no longer defend himself, how pitiful." Draco tried to sneer, but he just sounded sad.

Blaise and Pansy exchanged helpless looks.  
"How about we go back to my dorm, darling? I'm sure I can convince Granger that she should do her work out in the common room. Millie will understand, and I know we can bully Abbott into leaving us alone for a while. What do you think?" Pansy offered. Blaise gave her an incredulous look. "Since when has Bulstrode been Millie?" He asked, and Draco found himself laughing at the ridiculousness of it.

Pansy followed through on her offer, handling her roommates with surprising skill. They spent the rest of the evening gossiping about nearly everyone (except Potter, he was a forbidden topic), and looking through various magazines, pointing out different articles and clothes for the others to look at. They stayed together quite late until Bulstrode poked her head in and said that she wouldn't be able to keep Granger away for much longer. Draco reluctantly left his friends, heading down the hall to his own dorm.

Unfortunately for him, Potter was there, struggling to take his robes off. (Un)Fortunately, Potter was wearing his muggle clothes underneath. Draco stared as Potter finally extracted his head, hair messier than usual. Potter looked startled to see him. Draco leaned back against the door, crossing his arms and raising his eyebrow.   
"Why is it that whenever I come in, Potter, you're in various stages of undress?" He drawled. Potter flushed, reminding him of the incident that morning. He let a predatory smirk cross his face, making Potter gain a nervous look. Draco pushed off the door, prowling closer to Potter, who stood still, petrified.

"Tell me, Potter. Why did you blush this morning?" He asked silkily, stopping in front of the boy.

"That's none of your business, Malfoy," the boy managed to reply. The blush on his cheeks darkened. Draco smirked. "Well, Potter, I-"

Just then, the door banged open, making them both jump and drowning out whatever else Draco had been planning to say. Goldstein stood at the door, looking sheepish.

"Sorry. Didn't realize the door opened so easily." Goldstein said, flashing them an embarrassed grin. Draco scowled at him. Potter took the opportunity to escape, grabbing some clothes, and rushing to the bathroom. Goldstein casually walked over to his trunk and started rummaging around in it. Draco scowled harder at his back, before walking over to his own bed. He would come back to this another day. Potter would not escape him again.


	9. Chapter 8

"Harry," a voice whispered. It was dark. Harry turned about, trying to see where the voice was coming from, but he couldn't see a thing. "Harry," it whispered again, more insistently. The voice was familiar. Harry kept looking around in vain. "Potter," it said this time, and now Harry recognized it.

"Malfoy?" He called. There was no answer. "Malfoy?" He tried again. He twisted around one more time, but now he could see a figure walking towards him. It grew closer and closer until Harry saw the platinum blonde hair and familiar gray gaze. "Harry," said Malfoy in a smooth, silky voice. Why was Malfoy calling him by his first name? That wasn't normal. "Malfoy? What's wrong?" He asked. Malfoy sighed.

"Everything, Harry. Nothing is right when you're not with me." Harry's heart skipped a beat. Did Malfoy like him? He couldn't believe it. "What do you mean, Malfoy? Do you-" He was cut off by Malfoy, who impatiently said, "You know exactly what I mean, Harry."

Harry's head was spinning. This couldn't be real, could it? He felt a warm hand touch his face, and suddenly everything stopped spinning. Malfoy was looking deeply into his eyes. "Harry," he said plainly. The hand moved to cup his cheek, and Harry sighed in contentment. This is what he wanted. This felt right. He closed his eyes in bliss. Suddenly, a pair of soft, warm lips caressed his own, and blazing heat shot through him. Forget what he had said a moment ago because now everything felt right with the world. Harry was floating, exhilarated. Because he was kissing Malfoy. And he loved it.

Then, Malfoy's tongue was gliding across his lips, and Harry gasped, allowing Malfoy to claim his mouth. Fire engulfed his every nerve, and the kiss became a million times more intense. "Harry," Malfoy whispered into his mouth, and Harry shuddered in response. Malfoy's hand was trailing down his chest, the other reaching up to tangle itself in Harry's hair. He tugged it gently, and Harry moaned into the kiss. "Harry," Malfoy whispered again. "Harry. Harry. Har-"

"HARRY!"

Harry fell off the bed. "Oi!" He said in indignation. He sat up, looking around to see who had woken him. Ron was standing next to the bed, giving him a very odd look. "What was that for?" He asked Ron, rubbing his hip where he had landed.

Ron shook his head. "You weren't waking up, mate. If you want to get to breakfast, you'd better hurry up." Harry stood, walking through the empty dorm over to the bathroom and mumbling curses all the while. Ron followed him. Harry put a dollop of toothpaste onto his toothbrush and began brushing his teeth, Ron leaning against the doorframe beside him. "So," he started, "What were you dreaming about?" He asked, adopting an innocent tone. "Nu'ing," Harry mumbled around his brush, trying not to blush. Ron gave him another funny look. "Are you sure, mate? Because it sounded an awful lot like you were dreaming about Malfoy."

Harry nearly choked on his toothpaste. He spat it out into the sink and then turned to face Ron. "What makes you think that?" He asked, attempting to be casual. Ron appeared to be holding back laughter. "Oh, you know. Just a hunch. Though you saying his name a million times may have helped a bit."

This time Harry really did choke. After a long coughing fit with Ron thumping him on the back, trying to hold back snickers and miserably failing, he finally surfaced, spluttering. Ron was full out laughing now.

"I'm terribly glad you find all this so amusing, but I nearly died just now! Not to mention, I dreamt about Malfoy! I. Had. A. Dream. About. Malfoy. This is a crisis!" Harry hissed at him.

Ron straightened up, still chuckling. "Mate, you've nearly died so many times that the novelty of it has worn off. Besides, it rather sounded like you were enjoying that dream." Ron was far too amused about this for his own good. In fact, if he kept it up, Harry just might strangle him.

"Forget it!" He snapped. "Forget this ever happened. I know I will. Dear Merlin, do you think Hermione would agree to Obliviate me?" He asked desperately.

Ron shrugged. "Worth a shot. If she doesn't agree, we could always pay a visit to old Lockhart. I know if I had a dream about the ferret face, I wouldn't stop at Obliviating." He made a face. "Bloody good job he wasn't here when I came in. He would have had a heart attack!"

"More likely, he would be amused and then tease me about it for the rest of time," Harry muttered, remembering last night's incident.  
Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "Come on, mate," he said cheerily. "Wouldn't want to miss breakfast!"

————————————————————————

Draco was having a thoroughly uninteresting morning. He had finally managed to sleep, resulting in him waking up early and leaving the dorm to go find Pansy and Blaise. He had barged into Blaise's dorm, waking all of the occupants in the process, apart from Blaise. The Weasel had grumbled and then left to go find Potter, Longbottom had tripped and fallen back into his bed again, and Macmillan had walked into the bathroom, shooting Draco dark looks.

Draco had shaken Blaise awake and dragged him off to find Pansy. They had discovered that her door was firmly shut, and being gentlemen, had simply waited for one of her roommates to come out. Bulstrode had given them an annoyed look when they had asked her to get Pansy but had complied anyways. Bulstrode was like that.

Pansy came out looking like she had been awake for hours and promptly dragged them off to the Great Hall. They had sat down in their usual places. This time, to their mutual surprise, Bulstrode and Nott sat down next to them. After the initial shock and ensuing greetings, the additional Slytherins had been integrated into the conversation seamlessly. Draco felt a pang of sadness for his former friends, Crabbe and Goyle. Crabbe had- he had...and Goyle didn't want to return to Hogwarts without his ever-present counterpart. At times he missed their idiotic non-conversations and their nonverbal answers.

Out of the corner of his eye, Draco noticed two familiar figures walking into the Great Hall. He glanced over to see both Potter and the Weasel looking straight at him. The Weasel started snickering and poking Potter, saying something to him and laughing. Draco might have thought they were making fun of him, except that Potter, quite differently from the Weasel, immediately blushed and looked away. How positively interesting.

Draco turned back to the conversation, smirking, only to see everyone staring at him. "What?" He asked.

Pansy grinned at him. "We were talking about having a party. Possibly even with the other houses. I was asking if you thought it was a good plan, but obviously, you're too infatuated with Potter to listen to us plain, old Slytherins. I mean, I get we didn't save the world or anything, but-" Draco interrupted her.

"I am not infatuated with Potter!" He said a little too loudly. Some of the Slytherins down the table stared at him, then began whispering furiously to each other. Draco groaned. Everyone else smirked. Almost on instinct, Draco looked over to the Gryffindor table, almost instantly locking eyes with a certain black-haired boy. Potter just blushed and looked away again, which was enough to make Draco regain his smirk.

Blaise watched this interaction with amusement. "Maybe you have a chance, after all, Draco. Or at the very least, every rumor will be about how you and Potter are very obviously fucking."

Draco choked. "Potter and I are not fucking, Blaise!" He said, again a little too loudly. Some of the younger students looked horrified. Draco just slumped in defeat.

————————————————————————

"Hey Harry," Seamus greeted, sitting diagonally across from him. Harry nodded back. Seamus leaned forward, looking intently at him. "Are the rumors true, mate? Please tell me they are." Seamus gave him a pleading look.

"What rumors?" Harry asked bewilderedly. He hadn't heard any rumors.

Seamus looked delighted to be the one to inform him, then leaned in to whisper conspiratorially. "Apparently, Malfoy and his buddies were talking about you. Malfoy was loudly denying that he was attracted to you. He also was adamant that you two aren't-" he paused, seeming slightly embarrassed, "shagging." He finished.

Harry just gaped at him.

"And," he added, "because he denied it so strongly, everyone naturally assumed that he was lying."

Harry's jaw was practically sitting on the table next to his untouched breakfast.

Seamus cleared his throat. "So I take it the rumors aren't true?" At Harry's suddenly incredulous look, he quickly leaned back, saying, "Of course, mate. Shouldn't have even asked." Then he got up and practically fled to sit next to Dean.

Harry just turned to Ron and Hermione, still stunned into silence. Ron shrugged and grinned. "I wouldn't be all that surprised after this morning, mate." Hermione turned to him and looked him up and down.

"Are you alright, Ron? Do I need to take you to the hospital wing?" She asked anxiously. Ron just laughed. He looked at Harry with a lopsided grin. "Can I tell her, mate?" Harry just groaned and sank in his seat. He nodded. "Can't possibly get any worse," he grumbled. So Ron told Hermione all about how he found Harry saying Malfoy's name that morning.

The moment Ron finished his story, Hermione turned back to Harry and asked, "So what did he do in your dream?" Harry blushed and sank so far down into his seat that only his crimson forehead and black hair could be seen. Hermione rolled her eyes. "Did he kiss you?" She asked gently. Harry nodded. "Anything else?" He shook his head.

"Well, that's not all that bad," she said briskly. "Honestly, Harry, people have dreams like that all the time. It's completely normal."

Harry popped up. "So, I'm not attracted to him?" He asked, hopefully. Hermione gave him a scrutinizing look. "I think that's something you'll have to figure out for yourself, Harry," she told him firmly.

————————————————————————

A couple of days later, it was Saturday, and the 8th years were particularly excited. McGonagall had given them special permission to go out to Hogsmeade every weekend, and everyone intended to take full advantage of it. Harry, Hermione, and Ron were trudging down to the village. Ron was excited to see his brothers, who had recently bought Zonko's and turned it into a branch of their flourishing business.

As they approached the shops, they began to discuss where they would visit. Eventually, they decided on seeing the Weasley twins first, then Honeydukes, the Shrieking Shack for old times' sake, and finally the Three Broomsticks. Soon, they were standing in front of a large, crowded shop. It was very colorful, and occasionally loud bangs and cheers could be heard from inside. All in all, it was similar to how the branch of Weasley's Wizard Wheezes in Diagon Alley looked. Their witty rhyme about You-know-who and 'U-No-Poo' was gone, replaced by something else that read:

Three cheers to Potter   
For getting rid of the rotter.  
We all knew stinky old Voldy   
Was getting a little bit mouldy.  
So let's celebrate with some delicious cheeses   
And some good old fashioned   
Weasley's Wizard Wheezes!

Harry covered his face in embarrassment while Ron roared with laughter. Hermione just shook her head, smiling. After he recovered, Harry stormed into the busy shop, quickly locating the bright red hair that denoted a Weasley. The twin turned and spotted Harry, his eyes lighting up. When he saw the expression on his face, he suddenly gained a sparkle in his eye and pulled the other twin seemingly out of thin air.

"Harry!" Greeted one of them dramatically, sweeping his arm out and bowing.

"It is-"

"-so wonderful to see you! We were-"

"-wondering when you would-"

"-come to visit us! Did you like-"

"-our rhyme? We thought it was quite-"

"clever."

Harry just scowled at both of them, not even fazed by their confusing manner of speech. The twins glanced at each other.

"Do you think he's mad?" One whispered to the other.

"It's possible," the other whispered back, "better try to calm him down before he explodes."

"I'm not going to explode!" Harry erupted. The twins smirked. "Too late!" They chorused. Harry just scowled more. Then he gestured vaguely to the front of the shop, saying, "Would you please take that down? I don't much want even more people after me to offer their gratitude. And really, cheeses? If you were going to put me in a rhyme, you could have done so much better." He shook his head in mock disappointment.

"We thought it went with the mouldy theme," one of them explained.

"And besides, not much rhymes with Wheezes," the other added.

The Weasley twins cheerfully ignored his protests and began to show all three of them around their new shop. And of course, they told Harry he could get whatever he liked, free of cost. Harry insisted on paying, though, and they walked out of the shop with pockets bulging with things Filch would most definitely screech at them for if he saw.

The trio made their way to Honeydukes, where they stocked up on an assortment of goodies. Harry paid for all of them, assuring Ron that he could pay for their butterbeers later. Then they went up to the Shrieking Shack, where they stood silently, paying their respects to the Mauraders (though not Pettigrew.) After a while, when Harry no longer felt like crying, they made their way back down the hill and walked into the Three Broomsticks, ready to enjoy a nice, warm butterbeer. Ron ordered for them, giving him a chance to make eyes at Rosmerta without Hermione seeing. When he returned with their drinks, they sat chatting amiably and sipping the warm liquid.

The door opened, letting in a gust of the chilly autumn air. Harry shivered, looking up. He saw Malfoy and his Slytherin friends, looking around for a place to sit. Harry quickly realized that the only empty table big enough for all of them was right next to theirs. He sighed, ready for their peace to be disturbed.

Sure enough, the group moved towards them, chatting and laughing loudly. But they stopped when they realized who was at the table next to the one they were aiming for.

Parkinson stepped forwards and cleared her throat. "Potter, Granger, Weasley. Do you mind if we sit here?" She looked like she expected them to say yes, they actually did mind. In fact, Ron opened his mouth to say probably that exact thing, but Hermione beat him to it.

"Of course we wouldn't mind. Right, Harry, Ron?" She turned her signature glare on them. Faced with the wrath of an angry Hermione, both of them quickly nodded. Harry noticed Zabini give Malfoy a small shove, causing the boy to stumble towards Harry. Malfoy shot the other boy a glare before seating himself next to Harry.

"Potter," he greeted without looking at him.

"Malfoy," he greeted back. He wondered why Zabini had shoved Malfoy towards him. Perhaps Zabini didn't want to sit next to Harry and volunteered Malfoy so he would have to instead? Parkinson interrupted his musings. "I'll get the butterbeers. I'll buy you Gryffindors a second round as an apology for butting in." She sauntered off before any of them could protest. Harry really wanted to know when the Slytherins had become so polite. Granted, they all generally had good manners, but they never bothered before when it came to him.

On the other side of Malfoy, Zabini scooted closer to him. Malfoy moved to give him more space, causing his arm to press against Harry's. Little shocks of electricity went up and down his arm, and he jumped. "Sorry," muttered Malfoy. Seriously, what was with all the Slytherins recently?

Thank goodness Malfoy was left-handed, otherwise, his arm would constantly be brushing against Harry's as he sipped his drink. Harry almost shifted away, but he didn't want to give away the fact that such a small thing was making him so uncomfortable. Zabini scooted closer to Malfoy again, and this time he snapped at him. "Move away, Blaise, or I'll end up in Potter's lap." Harry flushed.

Zabini just chuckled, saying something that sounded suspiciously like, "You would like that, wouldn't you?" But thankfully, he also moved away. Still, it wasn't enough, because Malfoy's arm continued to press against his. And the electric shocks were still dancing all along his arm. He ended up sitting like that for nearly half an hour, the tingling getting stronger every second. He was about to jump up and make a run for it when Hermione finally made some excuse about needing to get back to do homework and mercifully allowed Harry to escape. He almost did jump out of his seat, pointedly not looking at Malfoy, and walked quickly out of the pub. They made their way up to the castle.

When they got to the common room, Hermione turned and asked, "Harry, are you alright?" Apparently, he hadn't been as inconspicuous with his discomfort as he had previously thought. He shrugged. "I'm fine, 'Mione. I think the ferret might have fleas, though. My arm felt weird the whole time." Hermione and Ron shared a look but didn't elaborate. Harry had gotten used to this when he had gone through his moody phase in 5th year, so he wasn't too bothered about it. Hermione sighed but moved off of the topic to something else of interest to her. "Have either of you started the Transfiguration essay?" Ron and Harry glanced at each other, then simultaneously shook their heads. Hermione sighed. "I told you, didn't I? Now go write your essays. If you finish them quickly, I might even look them over for you." Harry and Ron rushed to do their work. Hermione's "read overs" had gotten them through most of their classes each and every year before. They knew not to pass up a chance like this.


	10. Chapter 9

By Saturday evening, word had spread that the Slytherins were throwing a party the next day for all the 8th years in the Room of Requirement. McGonagall had sanctioned it herself, in the interest of 'house unity.' Nearly everyone planned to be there. They all knew Slytherins hosted the best parties. Rumor had it that the Hufflepuffs were bringing Firewhiskey.

On Sunday morning, to Harry and Ron's astonishment, Hermione rushed off, saying Parkinson had enlisted her help in setting up the party. Only, she had called her Pansy, much to their surprise. Harry and Ron had spent the afternoon playing quidditch with Ginny and a couple of others from the Gryffindor house team. After a couple of hours of flying, they trudged back into the common room, chatting and laughing, and went to their respective dorms to change. Afterward, Harry and Ron headed up to the Room of Requirement early, as per Hermione's request.

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Draco had been dragged along to help with the final preparations. Pansy had asked him to make sure that the Hufflepuffs were actually bringing alcohol. After interrogating a few of them, he found out that Smith was the one who was supposed to smuggle it in. He spent nearly half an hour tracking him down, only to find the git had backed out at the last second. Knowing Pansy would be furious if their party lacked alcohol, he set about finding a different way to acquire it.

Draco bribed one of the house elves with exclusive rights to clean his dorm (the elf was terribly excited) and was finally walking back up to the RoR, levitating bottles of Ogden's Finest trailing after him. As he walked into the room, Pansy turned and gave him an evil look.

"Where were you? You were supposed to be back ages ago! Oh good, you have the Firewhiskey, just set it down right here on this table..." she bustled around, making final adjustments. With a spin to make sure everything was absolutely perfect, she sighed. "All done. People should be getting here in about ten minutes. Now, if only-" Just then, Granger walked through the door, levitating more snacks. "Here, Pansy. This is the last of it." Pansy clapped in delight, missing the look Draco shot at her when Granger called her by name.

"Wow," a voice said from the door. Draco spun around to see Potter and the Weasel, looking around at the decorations in awe. Draco had to admit, Pansy had really gone all out. Tasteful streamers hung from the ceiling in black and silver, the lights were dimmed to a more cosy setting, and beanbags and armchairs were placed carefully around the room. Tables were set up along the left wall, covered in all kinds of snacks and drinks, including the Firewhiskey. It was definitely going to be a memorable party.

Potter and the Weasel walked further into the room. The ginger immediately made a beeline for the food, Granger heading over to intercept him. Potter just stood kind of close to Draco, making his heart start to beat faster. Draco looked at everything but Potter.

"Parkinson did a great job with all this," Potter said in a low voice, edging a bit closer. Draco fought to keep his voice even. "Yeah," he agreed. "Pansy's pretty great at this kind of thing." Potter was standing next to him now, shoving his hands into the pockets of the muggle jeans he wore. "And you?" He asked. "I would think you'd be pretty good at this kind of thing too." Draco shook his head, dimly wondering why Potter was being so polite. "I just brought the Firewhiskey," he said, gesturing at it. Potter nodded awkwardly.

Thankfully, a loud group of Ravenclaws came in, chattering excitedly. Since Pansy was busy with helping Granger, he played the part of the host, graciously welcoming the group and directing them to the food. About ten minutes later, nearly their whole year was there, along with a few of the 7th years who had been specially invited. People filled the room, lounging around on the seating area provided. Whenever the chairs and beanbags got full, more popped up out of thin air, thanks to the room's magic.

Draco scanned the room for his friends, but none of them were in sight. As he turned, his gaze was snagged by Potter, who was hugging the Weaslette. Jealousy flared inside Draco, and he struggled with the urge to go rip the girl away from Potter. He successfully tamped it down but decided that if there was any time for a drink, it was then. He approached the tables, where he spotted Pansy acting as bartender. He sat in front of the bar-like area and waited for her to give him her attention. When she turned to him, she broke out in a smile.

"Isn't this wonderful, Draco? People will talk for ages about the amazing party I threw! Did you want something to drink?" Draco nodded and asked for a cocktail. After expertly mixing the drink, Pansy slid the glass over to him. She gave him an appraising look. "Are you okay, darling?" She asked with a concerned tone. Draco shook his head but didn't elaborate, instead opting to toss his drink back. He set the glass down and tapped it, silently asking for more. Pansy wordlessly poured him more of the same concoction, shooting him another worried look.

Draco turned around in his seat and immediately saw Potter with his arm around the Weaslette. He tore his gaze away and knocked back his second drink. After a couple more rounds, with Pansy getting more and more concerned after each one, Draco was finally, blessedly drunk. He stumbled away from the bar, heading over to someone he thought looked like Blaise.

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Harry was having a great time. He and Ginny, whom he hadn't seen for ages, had hugged and then started talking about anything and everything. He missed her. She was one of his closest friends. He knew he could tell Gin anything, and she wouldn't judge him for it.

"Ginny," he began hesitantly. She shot him a bright smile. "Yes, Harry?" Harry opened his mouth, but nothing came out. Ginny immediately turned to face him fully. "What's wrong, Harry?" She asked, concern evident on her face.

"I think I'm confused." He said finally.

"What are you confused about?" Her tone was gentle, and she wasn't pushy like Hermione might have been. Harry bit his lip in indecision. "I... I had a dream a few nights ago. About...a guy. And, well, I don't know...I'm not sure how to feel about it."

Ginny gave him a serious look. "Did you and this guy do anything?" She asked. Harry nodded. "We, er, we...we kissed." He finally admitted. Understanding flitted across her face.

"And now you wonder if you might possibly be attracted to males." It was more of a statement than a question, but Harry nodded anyways. Ginny sighed. "I don't know, Harry. One dream doesn't prove anything. You might be, or you might not be. There are other ways to know, but I don't think you can tell just from one dream."

Harry hesitated again. "But how...how did you...?" Ginny smiled at him softly. "How did I know I was gay?" She asked him. Harry nodded. She sighed. "It wasn't really any one thing, in particular, Harry. I've always loved looking at beautiful women. And after dating a few guys - you, Dean, Michael - I realized that boys didn't really hold the same appeal for me as girls did. And then I saw Luna after a few months and saw how beautiful she had gotten...and well the rest is history." Harry was suddenly overwhelmed by the urge to hug his beautiful, brave ex-girlfriend. She had struggled with this alone for who knows how long. He was unmeasurably grateful to have her by his side now.

Harry pulled Ginny into his arms, burying his face into her fiery hair. He squeezed her for a second, then let her go. She smiled at him. Then, with his arm still around her waist, he guided her over to talk to their friends.

About fifteen minutes later, someone tapped him on the shoulder. He turned to see Zabini, a very unusually tipsy Neville hanging onto his arm. Neville didn't drink most of the time, so what had happened to make him like this? Zabini looked only slightly annoyed.

"Potter," he said, inclining his head. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, could you do me a favor?" Harry was so startled by the fact that a Slytherin was asking him for a favor that he nodded without thinking. Zabini looked relieved.

"Could you help Draco over to your dorm? He's a bit drunker than he usually gets. Could you just help guide him to your room, make sure he lies down? It would be a huge help." Zabini gave him a pleading look.

Harry was taken aback. "Why can't you do it?" He asked suspiciously. Zabini rolled his eyes. "I have to take Longbottom here back to our dorm. He refuses to let go of me." He looked strangely delighted at that fact.

"Parkinson?" Harry asked. Zabini looked annoyed by his question. "She's tending the bar and can't leave. And before you ask, Bulstrode is currently snogging some Ravenclaw guy, Nott is throwing his guts up in the bathroom, Goldstein never came, and Weasley is off somewhere with Granger doing who knows what."

Harry sighed in defeat. "Fine. I'll take him." Zabini nodded in thanks. "You'd better go quickly. Last I saw he was threatening to start dancing on the tabletop."

Harry forced down a laugh at that and turned, pushing through groups of people and looking around the room. He finally spotted a flash of blonde hair near the bar, but when he looked, he saw that it was Luna, chatting seriously with Parkinson. He kept scanning the room and was about to head off towards the most crowded area when something barreled into him.

"Oof," he protested.

"Potter!" A voice shouted loudly in his ear. Harry winced. He managed to extricate himself from a very clingy Malfoy, who was prattling on about random things. When he finally managed to get Malfoy to let go, he heard him say,

"-and then they told me to go away because I'm a nasty Death Eater. But that's okay because then I saw you! And I ran over, and here I am." Malfoy laughed delightedly.

Harry stared. Malfoy laughing was strangely...beautiful. His face was carefree, grey eyes sparkling with mischief. He laughed loudly like nothing was holding him back any longer. Then he processed what Malfoy had said.

"Someone called you a nasty Death Eater?" He asked angrily. Malfoy nodded seriously. "It's okay. I am a nasty Death Eater. I should've gone to jail. Why didn't you let me go to Azkaban, Harry?" Malfoy sounded strangely childlike and very sad, and Harry started at the use of his first name. He quite liked it coming from Malfoy's mouth, and wondered why he had never said it before. Then he remembered that oh yes, that was because they were bitter rivals.

"We've been over this, Malfoy. You don't deserve to go to jail. I'm not the only one who thinks that - the jury were the ones to let you go." Harry tried to reason with him. Malfoy just shook his head. "It's okay, Harry. You don't have to try to make me feel better. I was a bad boy, and I should have been punished." Harry was once again struck by how innocent Malfoy sounded. He truly sounded like a child at that moment. Harry sighed. "No, Malfoy. You had your reasons. Decent ones, too. I'm glad you weren't sent to jail." Harry figured it was okay to tell him that. After all, it was in the interest of getting Malfoy to calm down, and it was even a tiny bit true. Okay, more than a tiny bit true.

Malfoy smiled at him, and Harry felt blown away by the blinding force of it. He felt tingly and weird inside. He wrote off the feeling as a side effect of the few drinks he had, then set about trying to drag Malfoy to the dorm room. Fortunately, he was quite willing to go with Harry.

Harry opened the door for them, clutching Malfoy's wrist so he wouldn't wander off. He dragged the drunk boy over to his bed (Malfoy's that is) and let go, giving Malfoy a little shove.

Malfoy stumbled and crashed face-first on the bed. Unfortunately, he grabbed Harry's arm in the process, dragging him down with him. Harry landed on top of Malfoy, arms on either side of his body.

Malfoy turned underneath him so that they were face to face. Harry pushed himself up so that he was supporting himself on his forearms, and froze.

Malfoy was watching him intently, grey eyes boring into his own. As Harry stared back at him, Malfoy raised a slightly shaking hand to touch Harry's cheek.

"Harry," he whispered, reminding Harry an awful lot of what he had dreamt of only a few nights prior. Harry flushed immediately, eyes dropping to look at Malfoy's lips. He wondered what it would be like to kiss him for real. He wrenched his eyes away, and they locked back onto Malfoy's gaze at once. His pupils were dilated, and Harry realized that his breathing had also become quite fast. Malfoy's hand was still caressing his cheek.

Then, as if snapping out of a daydream, Harry suddenly realized what kind of a position they were in. He became acutely aware of Malfoy's drunk and frankly vulnerable state. It was unlikely he would enjoy being like this if he was sober. Harry scrambled up and away from Malfoy. The other boy just watched him, hand still hovering in the air.

"Go to sleep, Malfoy," he told him softly. Then he left the boy, retreating to the bathroom in the hopes he would be unconscious when he came out.


	11. Chapter 10

Harry looked at himself in the mirror. His cheeks were stained a dark red, his eyes bright, and his pupils just as dilated as Malfoy's had been. He could only see a small ring of green around them. He raised a shaking hand to his cheek in an echo of what Malfoy had done just a few minutes before.

Harry was no longer uncertain. He fancied boys. There was no denying it, not when he had tangible proof right in front of him. Not to mention just how tight his pants were feeling right at that moment. He buried his face in his hands, groaning. He decided the best course of action would be to shower and take care of his...issue. Hopefully, Malfoy would be fast asleep when he came out, otherwise, he didn't know what he would do.

He turned on the water, sticking his hand underneath to test the temperature. When it was pleasantly warm, he stripped and stepped under the pounding spray. He sighed as the warm water ran over his body, soothing his muscles. He took his time washing his hair, hoping his problem would go away. When it didn't, he quickly used soap to clean his body so he could take care of it faster.

He was rock hard, and the water hadn't helped to calm his raging erection. Harry rubbed the soap between his hands, making sure to get them as lathered up as possible. Then, he set the bar down and finally took himself into his hand. He groaned at the sudden stimulation. After a moment, he began to slide his hand up and down, his other forearm resting on the wall to support himself. His movements got faster and faster, and he felt pressure start to build up inside him. Harry closed his eyes and was accosted by a series of images. Malfoy laughing and smiling, Malfoy underneath him, Malfoy touching his cheek, looking just like he had in Harry's dream before-

He suddenly exploded, his back arching and toes curling, spraying the shower wall. He gasped, eyes fluttering open as he rode out the waves of pleasure, mind filled with grey eyes staring into his own.

Harry washed himself off, cleaning away the evidence of his actions. He turned off the water and groped for his towel, grabbing it and drying himself off. He wrapped the towel around his waist and shoved his glasses back on. Of course, he had forgotten his clothes again, so he walked out to retrieve them.

He thanked Merlin, Circe, Godric, and even Salazar too when he saw Malfoy unconscious in his bed. Harry quickly changed into his pajamas and clambered into bed, falling asleep almost immediately after his exertion.

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Draco woke up with a pounding headache. He groaned, burying his head into his pillow. He was seriously regretting drinking so much on a Sunday evening. He could barely even remember anything. His last memory was of Blaise telling him he was going to get Potter.

A hand poked him. He swatted at it blindly.

"Draco, darling," Pansy's much too loud and cheerful voice sang out. He raised his head so he could properly glare at her. She shoved a foaming blue potion in his face. Recognizing it immediately, he snatched it and guzzled the contents, sighing in relief as the Hangover potion took effect right away. He blinked hard as everything went back to normal.

Pansy was sitting on the edge of his bed in his otherwise empty dorm room. "It's time to go, darling," she told him, "Potions class starts in half an hour."

Draco shot up. "Half an hour!" He shouted. "Why didn't you wake me up earlier?" He asked, frantically throwing on his robes. He hesitated in front of the mirror but quickly calculated that he wouldn't be able to have breakfast if he messed with his hair. And he really needed some good old bacon right then.

He rushed out of the room, Pansy right behind him.

"I tried," she insisted. "I came in earlier, but Potter told me to let you sleep."

Draco almost stumbled at the news. Was Potter worried about him? Shaking it off, he continued their argument. "And you listened to him? You know I can't be late to potions, my godfather will murder me!" Pansy shook her head. "If Snape has a soft spot for anyone, it's you." She informed him. "I bet if you told him you weren't feeling well, he would let you skip."

Draco shook his head. "We're finishing our animagus potions today, remember? I can't possibly skip!"

Pansy rolled her eyes. "Is that because you want to finish the potion or because Potter is your potions partner?" Draco shot her a glare as they rushed into the Great Hall, which was almost empty.

Draco quickly guzzled down a glass of pumpkin juice and shoved some bacon into his mouth. He grabbed an apple to eat on the way to class. Pansy had clearly already eaten because she didn't take anything, just watched him in disgust.

"Careful, Draco. If you keep eating like that, people will mistake you for Weasley."

That was enough to make Draco pause and chew properly. Once he had swallowed the bacon, he glared at Pansy and said, "No one could ever possible mistake me for that ill-mannered ginger idiot. He is far beneath me." Draco scrunched his nose in disgust. Pansy just snickered.

Thankfully, they made it to class on time. Draco slid into his seat next to Potter, who was staring off into space. He hadn't even noticed Draco's arrival. Draco cleared his throat, amused when Potter jumped and looked around for the source of the disruption.

"Potter," Draco grinned, biting into the apple. Potter's eyes widened, and he didn't say anything back. Draco cocked his head and swallowed. "I suppose I should thank you, Potter. I have a very vague memory of Blaise saying he would ask you to take me back to our room. Judging by the fact I woke up in my own bed, I presume he found you?" Draco asked, raising an eyebrow in question. Potter nodded, gaining an apprehensive look.

"Do you remember anything afterward?" Potter asked him cautiously. Draco shook his head, and Potter suddenly looked relieved. Draco raised both eyebrows. "Why, Potter? Did something happen that I should know about?" Potter frantically shook his head, but a faint blush gave him away. Draco was about to interrogate him about it, but Snape's arrival prevented him from doing so.

Draco reluctantly turned to face forwards, adding this to the mental list he had made consisting of things to confront Potter about. He listened, bored, as Snape repeated some of the information from last week's class. When it was time to get to work, Draco retrieved their potion from where they had stored it for safekeeping.

In the meanwhile, Potter had gone to get the remaining ingredients. They silently fell into their previous routine of Draco asking for ingredients and Potter handing them over. Obviously, Draco was the one to actually make the potion. He turned to Potter.

"Now you may go get the Werewolf hairs, peasant," Draco said in a superior tone, referencing their conversation from last week. Potter looked confused.

"What do you mean, 'now,' Malfoy? I already got the hairs, see?" He held up a vial of greyish hairs for Draco to observe. Draco gave Potter an angry and slightly incredulous look.

"Really, Potter? Have you already forgotten what we talked about last week? You weren't supposed to get the hairs yet! Don't you remember? If you are exposed to them for too long, you might start a fight!" Draco nearly yelled at him.

Potter looked slightly remorseful. "Sorry, Malfoy, I forgot. But it's fine. I haven't touched them at all." He gave Draco a sheepish grin. Draco rolled his eyes at Potter's idiocy.

"I really don't understand how Granger puts up with you," he told Potter in a matter-of-fact voice. Potter grinned. "I suspect it has something to do with my dashing good looks and charming smile." He flashed Draco an admittedly adorable lopsided smile. And Draco couldn't disagree about Potter's looks either. But he just sniffed disdainfully and gestured for Potter to hand over the werewolf hairs. He opened the bottle and carefully took out the last ten of the coarse hairs with tweezers, emptying the vial. He made sure not to breathe in. Any kind of exposure was dangerous. He added them in and followed the rest of the directions precisely. Mercifully, they were finished about ten minutes before class ended. Draco scooped some of the bubbly red mixture into an empty vial to hand in to Snape.

Potter was sitting quietly, playing with another empty vial. When he saw Draco was finished, he shot him another smile. Draco gave him a small smile back.

"You should smile more often," Potter informed him with a grin. Draco was stunned into silence. Potter looked away, seemingly only just realizing what he had said.

"I only meant...I mean....you look friendlier when you smile. Last night you were smiling a lot. You looked happy. Carefree." Potter mumbled.

Draco kept staring at him.

"Just forget I said anything," Potter said after a minute of silence. Draco shook himself. "No, Potter, I just...didn't expect that. Thank you." Potter nodded, still looking away, twirling the vial between his fingers. Draco was afraid he would drop it, so he gently plucked it from the other boy's hand, setting it back down on the table. Potter jumped when their fingers brushed together. Draco fought down annoyance at Potter's unwillingness for Draco to touch him, even just a little bit. The rest of the class passed with neither of them looking at the other.

Only a few pairs, including Parkinson and Hermione, were able to finish. Snape sneered at them all. "Many of you were not able to finish. You will be receiving zeroes for this assignment." There was a collective groan from those who had not completed it. "Silence! No doubt, most of the potions that were completed shall be utterly useless. Let us test them now." Snape gave samples of random potions to each group. Draco and Potter simultaneously sighed in relief when they saw theirs was labeled "Granger-Parkinson." They had a silent argument about who should try it, which consisted of a lot of discreet gestures, some of which were quite rude. That was put to a stop when Snape informed them that both partners were meant to try the potion.

Draco eyed the potion apprehensively. With a shrug, Potter uncorked the vial and took a sip, making a face at the taste. He passed it to Draco, who did the same. The turned to each other, waiting for something to happen. Then, with a flurry of motion, a reindeer stood in Harry's place. The deer stomped its hoof and swung its head around in confusion. But Draco had very little time to take this in before an extremely odd feeling danced across his skin, from the top of his head to the tips of his fingers all the way down to the bottom of his feet. And then he blinked, and he was suddenly much closer to the ground, the reindeer towering over him. He tried to yell, but instead, what came out was a jet of flame. He recoiled in shock. Then it dawned on him what form he had taken. He should have known. 'Draco.' It was even in his name. He stretched out his...arm? Sure enough, he saw a wing instead. He squawked in excitement and began to flap his wings. It was supremely awkward, and he moved his wings even faster in an attempt to fly. Finally, he felt himself growing lighter, and his claws lifted off of the ground and-

He fell flat on his snout. The reindeer, who had been watching him, let out a snorting noise that Draco eventually recognized as a laugh. Draco the dragon glared at the reindeer and let out a threatening puff of smoke. The reindeer snorted harder. Then, all too soon, the reindeer shimmered and turned back into Potter. The now less strange feeling crawled over Draco's scales, and he blinked once more to find himself at his normal height. Potter was still laughing at him. Draco glared and smacked his arm.

"Ouch!" Potter said indignantly, but at least he stopped laughing. Draco turned his nose up. "You're just jealous that I can breathe fire and fly. What can you do, Rudolph?"

Potter snorted, and it sounded remarkably like the reindeer from only moments ago. "You mean almost fly. It was kind of majestic until you fell on your face. And besides, how do you know about muggle carols?" Potter asked curiously. Draco shrugged. "Malfoys are naturally majestic, Potter. And it's kind of hard not to with all the muggleborns walking around singing them all the time during the winter hols." Potter smiled. "You don't call them mudbloods anymore," he observed.

Draco suddenly found the floor very interesting. His face had become very closely acquainted with it only a few moments ago, after all. He didn't acknowledge Potter's statement. Instead, he looked over to where some of the other groups had shimmery images of animals standing in front of them. Granger had a squirrel, Pansy had an arctic fox, Weasley, ironically, had a ferret, Macmillan had a puffin, Blaise had an impala, and Goldstein had a zebra. All the rest of the groups were either finished or had potions that didn't work. The only other pair to actually turn into their animagus form was Bulstrode and Nott. Bulstrode was a hideously pink tiger, and Theo was a black wolf. Draco assumed the pair had gotten his and Potter's (but mostly his) potion because he was the only one good enough at potions other than Granger to make a perfect animagus potion.

Within a few minutes, the chaos had subsided, and Snape looked like he regretted having them test the potions. He also looked a bit upset that none of the potions had failed spectacularly, though some had clearly not worked. He dismissed them all with a sneer.

Pansy and Blaise rushed over to him. "A dragon, Draco!" Pansy gushed. "That's amazing! It's incredibly rare to have magical creatures as your animagus, though I suppose we should have known, what with your name and all." Draco noticed out of the corner of his eye Potter edging away to go talk to his friends. Draco distractedly praised his friends' animagi forms, too, before turning to see Potter excitedly describing to Granger what it felt like to turn into an animal. Granger had a jealous look on her face.

Draco walked off to his next class, Herbology. His brain echoed with Potter's words.

You should smile more.

He tentatively raised the corners of his mouth, smiling at nothing in particular except the memory of a snorting reindeer standing over him.


	12. Chapter 11

Harry collapsed onto the couch in the common room, exhausted. Turning into an animal was strangely tiring. But he also felt a surge of determination to put in the work to become an animagus. He could see why his father loved being a stag. He felt light and speedy as a reindeer, and those were also the qualities that made him such a great Seeker. He felt a surge of closeness with the father he had barely known.

But Harry also felt an odd, almost foreign feeling rush through him that left him inexplicably upset. He sat up.

"I feel strange. I'm going for a walk, see you guys in Herbology." He told Hermione and Ron. Hermione gave him a worried look.

"Are you alright, Harry?" She asked. Harry nodded. "Just a bit queasy. It'll pass, but I think walking around might help." Harry waved at the two and left them alone, walking into the dungeon corridors. He began wandering about aimlessly, then decided he may as well start walking in the general direction of the greenhouses. He ambled along, turning a corner and-

"Oomph," he said, bumping into someone slightly taller than him.

The other person stumbled back and said in a nasty tone, "Watch where you're- oh, it's you, Potter. I should have known. No one else is idiotic enough to walk around without looking where they're going." Malfoy said, rolling his eyes, but it was more of a joke than an insult. Normally, Harry might have smiled or even laughed, but all he felt was a strong wave of rage. Malfoy's face dropped at the expression of anger on Harry's face.

"Calm down, Potter. It was merely a joke. No need to get upset." Harry was nearly vibrating with fury, even as a small part of his brain wondered why on earth he was getting so upset. Malfoy backed away. "Look, Potter. I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

But Harry felt an overwhelming urge to punch the blonde boy directly in his face. And he did. Malfoy reeled back, nose streaming blood. It looked broken. "Podder," He said in an angry, nasally voice. "Whad is going on?" Harry just surged forward again, this time aiming for his gut. Malfoy doubled over, the breath knocked out of him.

The Slytherin was not one to just sit there and take it, so naturally, he fought back. He kicked Harry's shin, causing him to howl in pain. "Podder," he hissed, "Whad habe you done?" Harry just kept attacking Malfoy like a rabid animal, kicking and biting and growling and punching everywhere he could reach. He didn't even think to take out his wand.

But Malfoy did, and he whipped it out and screamed, "Impedimenta!" Harry was thrown back onto the floor, and Malfoy quickly shot a stunning spell at him. The last thought he had was of overwhelming, all-encompassing regret.

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Draco panicked. He had to get Potter to the Hospital wing, preferably without anyone seeing them. It would look very suspicious if a former Death Eater was dragging along an unconscious Harry Potter. He cast a disillusionment charm on Potter's unmoving body, and then quietly whispered, "Mobilicorpus." Potter's body lifted off of the ground, and Draco set a brisk pace towards the Hospital Wing. He wanted to run there, but it would look strange if he was in too much of a hurry.

Luckily, by taking advantage of a few different shortcuts, Draco made it to the Hospital Wing without incident. He carefully levitated Potter onto one of the beds, then called out for Madam Pomfrey, undoing the disillusionment charm.

The petite yet incredibly scary woman hurried out of her office, immediately spotting Potter lying on the bed. "What happened?" She asked as if unconscious patients were brought in every day, which they probably were. Draco described how he had bumped into Potter, making sure to tell the woman he had apologized and backed off. She looked skeptical but allowed him to continue. As he finished telling her about Potter's sudden attack, she ran diagnostic spells on the boy.

"Tell me, Mr. Malfoy, what class did you have this morning?" Madam Pomfrey asked, and Draco was thankful that she appeared to have believed him. "Potions," he answered quickly. She nodded. "And could you tell me what potion you were working on?"

Draco had a flashback to his brief escapade as a flying lizard. "The animagus potion," he answered her. She nodded again. "If I am not mistaken, that potion requires Werewolf hairs, correct?" And Draco was struck by the horrific realization that Potter must have somehow been touching the things for too long. He recalled the empty vial Potter had been playing with and felt sick.

"Yes, I think that might have been the problem," Draco admitted to her. "There is a possibility he was touching the bottle they were in for an extended period of time." Madam Pomfrey shook her head. "Foolish boy," she said, and it sounded almost fond. Draco blinked in shock. Then it was all business once more.

"It was a good idea to stun him. The effects will run their course while he is unconscious. He should be back to normal by the time he recovers." And with that, Pomfrey turned back to Draco.

"Let's get you taken care of. You'll have to stay here afterward to make sure you are properly healed." Pomfrey pointed her wand at him, muttering a few spells. Draco winced as his nose shifted back in place, along with what seemed like more than a few of his ribs. Potter really had a freakishly strong punch. "Bed," Madam Pomfrey ordered when she was done and bustled away back to her office. Draco obeyed, as one should always do when faced with Madam Pomfrey.

He clambered into the bed next to Potter (because it was closest and for no other reason than that.) He lay down gingerly, wincing at the bruises and soreness that lingered. His exhaustion from the fight overwhelmed him, and he decided it might be alright to take a quick nap.

————————————————————————

Harry awoke to the unfortunately familiar ceiling of the Hospital Wing. He blinked, trying to remember the series of events that had led him here. He stiffened as he remembered the alien rage he had felt, and nearly gagged when he recalled how he had acted towards Malfoy, who had been wholly undeserving of it. He sat up slowly, wincing, and wondered why he had been so angry. It was not Malfoy's fault; Harry had overreacted on a large scale. He needed to find Malfoy and apologize right away. He whipped the covers off his bed and swung his legs around, so his feet rested on the floor. He froze.

Malfoy was sitting up in the bed next to his, watching him. A tray with various foods was sitting in his lap, and a fork with pasta on it was hovering midair. Harry blinked at him.

Malfoy cleared his throat. "You're awake," he stated. Harry nodded awkwardly. "Are you feeling better?" Malfoy asked him, sounding strangely concerned. Harry was confused. Why was Malfoy asking him if he was okay when Harry was the one who had attacked him so viciously without reason?

Harry opened his mouth. "Look, Malfoy, I'm really sorry. I don't know why I did that, you didn't deserve it at all. I just felt so angry all of a sudden and-"

Malfoy cut him off. "I know, Potter. Really, you should have paid more attention to me before. I told you that the Werewolf hairs were dangerous!" Harry blinked in confusion. Malfoy rolled his eyes. "I cannot believe you, Potter. We talked about it only this morning. You attacked me because you touched the vial with the hairs in it, and they caused you to have strong feelings of anger. It's fine, just pay attention next time."

Harry was really angry now. "How in Merlin's name is this fine? It's not fine! I would have kept going until I killed you! Nothing about this is fine!" He yelled.

Malfoy looked away. "Really, Potter, you're overreacting. I know you didn't mean to hurt me. I forgive you."

Harry pulled at his hair in frustration. "How can you just forgive me like that? It's my fault I didn't pay close enough attention to you and Snape. You should hate me for this."

Malfoy shook his head. "I don't, Potter. It could have happened to anyone." Potter leaped up and began to pace, ignoring the twinge of pain he felt. "But it didn't! No one else was dumb enough to disregard the instructions as I did."

Malfoy sighed annoyingly. "Potter, it's fine. Really, I forgive you. Please, let's just move on. Next time, you can read the instructions and warnings a million times under my careful supervision until you can recite them backward. Please, Potter, just forget it."

Harry was too agitated to be surprised at Malfoy's begging. "I'm sorry, Malfoy, but I can't. I hurt you, and you didn't do a thing to warrant it. I don't deserve your forgiveness."

Malfoy shook his head impatiently. "Yet you have it anyways. Honestly, Potter, how can you forgive me for all my misdeeds and not allow me to forgive you for yours? This is nothing compared to what I did." Harry shook his head. "It's different," he said stubbornly.

Malfoy snorted. "Sure, Potter, sure. Please, can we just pretend this never happened? I would like to eat my lunch without further disturbance." Harry had no intention of forgetting this, but he nodded so Malfoy could get back to his food. On cue, his own stomach growled.

Malfoy snickered. "Come here, Potter. This is far too much for one person to eat, and your stomach might eat itself if you have to wait any longer." Harry shook his head, but after more insisting on Malfoy's part and another embarrassingly loud rumble from his stomach, he gave in. He pulled a chair up to Malfoy's bed and sat next to him, stealing the untouched beef stew. He was right, the pasta, stew, and fried chicken all together was far too much for any one person to eat.

"So, Malfoy," Harry began, "I was thinking-"

"How shocking," Malfoy snickered at him. Harry rolled his eyes and continued. "I was thinking that I, for one, would appreciate it if this kind of thing never happened again. The fighting, I mean. So I was wondering....would you like to maybe, possibly, be friends?" He rushed the last part out. Then he sat there nervously as Malfoy just gaped at him. After a silence that was far too long for Harry's liking, he cleared his throat. "I mean, if you don't want to, it's fine. I just thought that you might want to stop all this arguing and-"

Malfoy stuck out his hand, shaking slightly. "Friends?" He asked nervously. Harry recognized the gesture at once and broke out into a smile. "I think I can tell the wrong sort for myself, thanks," he said in a voice that was meant to mock his younger self. But at Malfoy's suddenly hurt look, he hurriedly continued. "And you're not the wrong sort. Friends." He confirmed, and they shook hands, wearing matching grins.

"Now if only you'd done that seven years ago," Malfoy- or was he Draco now? - said wistfully. Harry shook his head. "If only you hadn't insulted my friends, you mean," he said in protest. Malfoy- Draco?- rolled his eyes at him. They sat in companionable silence, eating their food quietly.

Malfoy was the one to break it. "Shall I call you Harry now? It's strange, but it would be stranger if we kept calling each other Potter and Malfoy." Malfoy- Draco- sounded nervous.

Harry nodded. "I think we should. I've already started trying to call you Draco in my head. And besides-" Harry looked slyly at his companion. "You've called me Harry a few times already." Draco looked startled at this news. "I have?" He asked bewilderedly. Harry nodded at him. "When you got drunk yesterday, you had no trouble calling me by my first name," he told the other boy smugly. Draco looked embarrassed.

"Are you sure nothing happened? I know I can be a bit clingy and touchy-feely when I get drunk. I hope I didn't make you uncomfortable. Harry opened his mouth but shut it a second later because he remembered that Draco had actually made him quite uncomfortable in a very inconvenient way. He pushed down his memories of the event so he wouldn't get uncomfortable again with Draco right next to him.

Draco had been watching him intently. "I did do something," he accused when he saw Harry's complicated expression. The guilty look that followed was enough to ensure Draco that he was correct. Draco groaned, letting his head fall back. "What did I do? Please tell me!" He begged Harry.

Harry shook his head, frantically. No way was he telling Malfoy- Draco- that they had almost kissed. His eyes dropped to Draco's lips unconsciously, and he was incredibly grateful that he was not currently looking at him. Draco turned to glare at him. "You are infuriating. You know-" and here Draco smirked, causing Harry to gulp, "I have a whole list of things to ask you about. You know, the blushing, more blushing, avoiding answering me when I ask about the blushing...why did you blush Harry?" Draco asked pointedly.

Harry flushed immediately and looked away. Draco gave a fake sigh of disappointment. "I think it would be in your favor to just tell me. Otherwise, I might think it's something worse than it is. Or better, depending on how you look at it." Draco warned him. Harry chewed on his lip. The other boy had a point, but also Harry would never admit that he had eavesdropped on him, then dreamt of kissing him, then almost actually kissed him...yeah, it was much better to let Draco believe whatever he could come up with. Harry shook his head, determinedly. Draco pouted, and Harry wanted to kiss him again because it was absolutely adorable. Thankfully he was already blushing. Merlin, he never thought he'd say that.

"So, Draco," Harry said, "do you think our friends are wondering where we are?" Draco smirked at his sudden change in subject. "I don't know, Harry, but don't think I've forgotten about this."

Harry groaned in defeat.


	13. Chapter 12

Draco couldn't believe his luck. Somehow they had become friends even after their fight. It was a dream come true. Literally, because Draco had wanted to be Harry's friend since the first time he had heard his name. Little Draco had wanted to meet the child capable of defeating the Dark Lord, even though his father insisted Harry Potter was nothing special. He was elated by the knowledge that they would spend their time at Hogwarts together. And then he had been so nervous about meeting the boy that he had unwittingly insulted Harry's only friend and ruined his chance. Draco had sulked for weeks after, much to Pansy's annoyance.

And now he was getting a second chance to be friends with the Boy Who Lived and he would not mess it up. He smiled at the green-eyed boy sitting next to him and received a smile in return. This was what he had been craving since he was a toddler. This was the reason Draco had tormented their savior for years - he needed to see those green eyes flashing with something, even if it had to be anger. Smiles were much better, though, he decided.

After they demolished the meal together, Madam Pomfrey came out of her office. She checked them with spells, then dismissed both of them to their common room. Class had ended only moments ago if the loud footsteps and chatter of students was anything to go by.

They walked all the way down to the common room together, chatting and laughing about whatever popped up in their conversation. When they reached the common room, Harry was accosted by some very bushy, brown hair.

"Harry," Hermione shrieked. "Where were you? You didn't come to class or lunch! We were so worried!" Draco left Harry to be berated by Granger and soon found himself in an identical confrontation with Pansy.

After Pansy had ranted for a while about going off on his own, he finally cut her off. "Harry and I had a fight. I stunned him and took him to the Hospital Wing. We fell asleep for a while and talked, and now we're friends." He made to walk past her to his dorm, but she blocked him.

"You fought? And now you're friends?" She looked skeptical. Draco sighed.

"Yes, Pans. Harry touched the Werewolf hairs and was near me when they took effect, so he attacked me. I stunned him and brought him to the Hospital Wing. Pomfrey healed both of us but said to wait for Harry to wake up and told me to rest. When I woke up, lunch was over, so we ate there, and Pomfrey let us go just a few minutes ago." Draco relayed the story to her and made to go past her again. She stepped back in front of him.

"And you're friends now? You call him Harry?" Draco rolled his eyes. Pansy was being particularly slow today. "Yes, Pans. We're friends." Pansy gave him a sly look. "Not more than friends? Not boyfriends? I'm disappointed, Draco. I thought you would have found a way to slither in Potter's pants by now."

Draco choked, both at the vulgar implication and intentional pun. He glared at the smug girl. "No, Pansy, we're just friends. Harry doesn't swing that way, you know that." Pansy gave him an appraising look. "I'm not so sure about that anymore," she murmured, causing Draco to stop dead.

"What do you mean, Pans?" He demanded. She smirked. "Potter and the female Weasley aren't together. I was talking with Loony Lovegood yesterday, and apparently, she and the female Weasley are dating." Draco stared at Pansy.

"So, he doesn't have a girlfriend?" He asked to make sure. Pansy nodded. Hope glimmered across his face before Draco's shoulders slumped. "That doesn't mean anything, Pansy. Maybe he just found that gingers weren't his type after all." Pansy shrugged.

"Maybe, Draco. But you won't know until you ask." Draco looked horrified at that suggestion. Pansy snickered at him. "Since I'm such a wonderful friend, I might consider going and figuring it out for you. For a price, of course. There was a beautiful emerald bracelet in Witch Weekly, and I think it would look quite nice on my wrist. And you know how much I love green, darling." Draco nodded emphatically. "Consider it your Christmas present," he promised her, and she gave him a Slytherin grin. "Just leave it to me, sweetie."

————————————————————————

Harry wasn't entirely sure why Parkinson was sitting down next to him. He would have written it off as coincidence, except that she was looking right at him.

"Hello, Potter," she greeted him.

"Parkinson," he greeted back warily.

She sighed dramatically. "I have a problem, Potter. Would you like to hear what it is?"  
Harry was bewildered. "Not particularly," he began, but Parkinson cut him off.

"I'll tell you anyway. I was talking to lovely Luna yesterday, and she just happened to tell me that she was dating Ginevra Weasley. Imagine my surprise. I was sure you two were still dating!" Harry tried to reply, but Parkinson droned on.

"My problem, Potter, is that I am losing my touch! How can I call myself the queen of gossip when I remain unaware of all the juicy tidbits that no one else knows of?" Harry wasn't aware that Parkinson was the queen of gossip and quite frankly didn't care. He tried to tell her that, but she wouldn't let him speak.

"So, Potter, in the interest of regaining my title, I just have to know. Are you dating anyone else? Is she an 8th year, a 7th year? Younger?" Then it seemed like Parkinson was looking directly into his soul. "Or could it be that the person you're dating is not a she, but a he?"

Harry panicked. How did she know, when he hadn't even known until only yesterday? He opened and closed his mouth like a fish. Parkinson looked delighted. "So it is a he? How positively fascinating!"

"It is not fascinating!" He snapped. "I am not dating anyone, neither a he nor a she!" But by not denying an attraction to males, he realized that he had given himself away. Parkinson smirked. "Thanks for the intel, Potter. See you around." And with that, she sauntered off, not giving Harry a chance to deny anything. He slumped backward, far too exhausted to think about how he could fix this. He would have to tell Hermione and Ron before they found out from someone else.

Right on cue, Hermione walked over to him, Ron trailing behind her. She gave him a curious look. "What did Pansy want?" She asked.

Harry cleared his throat. "Never mind that. I, er, I have something to tell you guys." Hermione, bless her, immediately guessed that it was something private. She nodded firmly. "Pansy owes me for last time she wanted to talk to Malfoy. We can go to my room."

Ron looked at him curiously, but Harry shook his head. They followed Hermione to her room, thankfully finding it empty. She led them over to her bed and sat on it. Ron sat next to her, and Harry sat opposite them on a different bed.

"So," he began, then didn't know how to continue. After a couple of seconds, Hermione looked at him softly.

"Is this about Malfoy?" She asked him. He nodded. "Kind of." After another awkward silence, Harry blurted out, "I think I'm bisexual."

Ron started having a coughing fit, and Hermione rolled her eyes, thumping him on the back. She gave Harry a smile while she continued hitting Ron.

"That's wonderful, Harry. How did you find out?" Harry shifted awkwardly. "That's not important. You guys aren't mad?" He asked.

Ron finally surfaced with a pained grin. "Of course not, mate. We'll always support you." He croaked out. Hermione gave him a proud look.

"So, you still like girls?" She asked him. Harry nodded. "I just also like blokes too now. I did love Ginny for a bit, but now I just love her like a sister." Hermione smiled. "I'm so happy for you, Harry. Is there anyone in particular who made you realize this?" Harry shifted again. "About that..." he trailed off.

Ron spluttered, and they both turned to look at him. "When she...Malfoy...said kind of...bloody hell...you and Malfoy?!" He finally managed. Harry blushed. Hermione looked impressed with Ron's powers of deduction.

"We're not dating or anything! We just became friends this afternoon, for Merlin's sake! I just...and I don't think he likes me like that anyways." Harry said sadly. Hermione shot him a sympathetic look. "You never know, Harry. You never know."

————————————————————————

Draco headed to the disused classroom he had agreed to meet Pansy in. He arrived before her, so he sat down in one of the desks while he waited. Moments later, Pansy hurried in with a genuine smile on her face.

"Good news, darling, very good news," she said, and Draco shot up. "What did you find out?" He asked eagerly.

"A few things, and I don't think he suspects anything either." She sat on top of one of the desks. "I told him I just wanted to know so I would have something to gossip about. He seemed to believe it." At Draco's impatient look, she got on with her story. "Anyways, I asked him if he was dating any girls, then I not so subtly hinted that I thought he might prefer boys. He only said that wasn't dating anyone. He didn't even deny an attraction to boys, which I think is very telling. If he was fully straight, I'm sure that would have been the first thing he focused on." Draco suddenly felt hopeful.

"Do you think I have a chance with him?" He asked, sounding vulnerable. Pansy hesitated, knowing her answer could do a lot of damage if she wasn't careful. Either he would feel unworthy, or he would get his hopes up, only to have them possible crushed. Pansy had to be careful to make sure neither happened.

"I think you won't know until you try," she told him carefully. "You're already friends with him, that's a step in the right direction. Just try flirting with him or something, see how he reacts." Draco nodded, now feeling reassured.

"Thanks, Pans," he said and walked out of the room. Draco would listen to Pansy. She had good instincts when it came to matters like this.

When he returned to the 8th year common room, most people had retired to their dorm rooms. Draco made his way down the hall to his own room and pushed open the door. Theo and Harry were there, doing homework on their beds. Harry looked up and gave Draco a smile when he entered. Draco's heart skipped a beat at the gesture. He walked over to his own bed, pulling out potions books from his bag. He started the essay that was due the following week.

Minutes later, Theo announced that he was off to the library, and Draco and Harry were left alone together. Draco found it incredibly hard to focus. Harry coughed.

"Yes?" He said, without looking up. He didn't have to look at Harry to know that he was fidgeting.

"Would you...never mind." Harry sounded subdued. Draco looked up to see him chewing on his lip and looking frustrated.

"Would you like some help?" He asked the boy. Harry nodded in relief. Draco looked at the bed skeptically. "We should probably go down to the library. I don't think both of us will fit on your bed, not with all our homework too."

Harry blushed, and Draco realized he had hinted that if it weren't for all the books, they would be able to fit on Harry's bed together. And that had certain...implications. He was about to be embarrassed, too, except that he remembered what Pansy had told him about flirting. So he smirked and winked instead, and Harry blushed harder. Then Draco gathered his things, dumping them into his bag, and sauntered off to the library, not checking if Harry was following him. He knew he would.

Sure enough, Harry caught up to him moments later. They headed up to the library together, chatting quietly about their homework.

Once they arrived, they set about finding an empty table. The library was surprisingly quite full, even though it was only the beginning of the year. Draco spotted Theo and Granger at different tables, but he wanted to be alone with Harry.

Draco led them to a table that was deeper in the stacks, secluded and separate from the rest of the room. He dumped his bag on the table and unloaded the contents. Harry did the same in the seat opposite him. After a moment, Draco shook his head. "I should sit next to you so we can work together," he said, sliding his books next to Harry, then walking around the table to sit down. Harry nodded and sat down too. Draco quickly realized that Potter was truly awful at potions, just like he had suspected all along.

"No, Harry! You add in the salamander blood after the frog's legs, not before." He told him for the third time. Harry sighed. "I'm sorry, I'm taking up all your time. You can go back to your work, don't worry about me."

Draco rolled his eyes in annoyance. "Of course not. It would reflect badly on me as your potions partner if I let you turn in this monstrosity. Try again." Harry gave him a grateful smile and went back to work. It wasn't long before Harry started to get the hang of it. Now that he didn't have to be watching for mistakes so much, Draco was free to let his mind wander. He suddenly remembered something. Flirting.

When Harry asked him to read over the paragraph he had just written, Draco casually rested his arm on the back of Harry's chair and scooted closer, all under the pretense of trying to see what he had written. As he leaned forwards, Harry's breath ghosted over his face, and he suddenly found that the other boy's lips were far too close. Draco's breath caught as he turned, eyes immediately drawn to Harry's. They were greener than any forest he'd ever seen, but the iris was mostly hidden by his dilated pupils. Harry was staring right back at Draco, and Draco's heart raced. Almost without conscious thought, his eyes dropped to stare at those perfectly shaped pink lips. His eyes flickered back up to see that Harry was looking at his lips too. Draco swallowed hard.

He noticed that Harry's eyes were getting closer, and he wondered which of them was leaning in. It was probably himself; Harry would never have been the one to initiate. But before their lips could meet, Madam Pince's screech interrupted them. They both jumped and pulled back immediately, looking around, but thankfully she was yelling at a different table for throwing a book.

Draco didn't look at Harry. Instead, he focussed all his attention on the paragraph Harry had written. He had to read it a few times to comprehend it, but at least it gave him a chance to settle down.

Draco calmly pointed out what Harry needed to fix. Unfortunately, he had to stay next to the boy until he finished the essay, because Draco had promised, and it would be more awkward if he tried to move away. But as soon as Draco approved his essay, Harry jumped up, packing his stuff. 

"I've just remembered, I, er, I was supposed to, er...meet Hermione! Yeah, I was supposed to go talk to her about something, but I completely forgot, so I hope you'll excuse me for leaving so suddenly..." Harry rambled, not meeting his eyes. The boy rushed out of the library, shouting a "thank you" back at Draco. Madam Pince glared at him, but since he was already leaving, there was nothing she could do. Draco sat at the table, dazed and alone, as he wondered why the hell he had decided to listen to Pansy.


	14. Chapter 13

Luckily, it seemed that Draco had either forgotten or had chosen to ignore the incident in the library. Harry was still shaken. He had wanted to kiss Draco so badly right then. It almost seemed like Draco had wanted to kiss him too, but then Harry remembered that Pansy had told Draco to find another guy to help get rid of his crush. He felt sick. Was Draco just using him to get over someone else? He was suddenly glad that Madam Pince had yelled at those 4th years because it had stopped Harry from kissing Draco. It had to have been Harry that was leaning in because Draco would never have tried to kiss Harry first.

Harry tried to play it off, just like Draco. It was hard being around the other boy all the time - the dorm, classes, the common room - Draco was just everywhere. Those damnably beautiful, yet piercing gray eyes, the soft, sexy blonde hair, and the ethereal angled features were everywhere he went. He wondered if it would be so bad if Draco was planning on using him, as long as Harry finally got to kiss Draco.

Harry walked into the common room. Thankfully, Draco wasn't there. He nodded to Ron and Hermione and continued to his dorm. He pushed open the door, only to see Malfoy pulling his robes over his head. He was wearing pants underneath, but they honestly didn't cover much except what was absolutely necessary. And of course, his torso was bare.

Harry was frozen. He didn't have a chance to admire Draco's lean frame, because two thin lines crossed over Draco's chest, meeting under his left pectoral. They were a ghostly white, paler than the blonde himself. Draco finished pulling off his robe and jumped when he saw Harry.

"Take a picture, Harry, it'll last longer," he said, rolling his eyes. When Harry didn't respond, Draco stepped closer, concerned.  
"Harry?"

Harry raised a shaking hand to point at the scars. "I did that to you." His voice was trembling, eyes wide with horror and shame. Draco recoiled, then determinedly crossed the room to stand in front of Harry.

"Yes, you did. And I'm glad for it." He said, and his voice was sincere. Harry shook his head sadly. "How could you ever be glad that I nearly killed you?" He asked softly.

Draco gave him a sad look. "Harry, I was going to crucio you. I absolutely hated that you saw me so weak and vulnerable. I could have cast quite a powerful one right then. I'm happy that you stopped me from doing something I would regret. And I know you didn't mean to do this, the Golden Boy couldn't possibly use such an evil spell knowingly." Harry still shook his head, stepping back.

"I almost killed you. And I've ruined you forever. Please, never forgive me." He said, unable to look at the scars any longer.

Draco rolled his eyes. "And everyone thought I was the melodramatic one. Truly, I don't mind the scars. It reminds me of how awful we were and how far we've come. I am filled with awe every time I look at them, not hate." Harry couldn't believe he didn't blame him.

"How could you possibly forgive me for this?" He asked desperately. Draco gave him a soft look. "The same way you forgave me for everything I've done. My mistakes were so much worse than yours. I think it's only fair to forgive you for this. Remember what we talked about in the Hospital Wing?"

Harry was skeptical. "You were forced to do a lot of bad things. I wasn't forced." Draco looked annoyed. "Yes, you were. I forced you to defend yourself. Now shut it and just accept that I don't blame you for a single thing." Draco turned around and began to pull his clothes on. Harry stared after him incredulously.

————————————————————————

A few days later, it was the weekend. Draco and Blaise were sitting in Blaise's empty dorm. Pansy was, unfortunately, quite ill.

"You know, it's been far too long since we played a prank on the Gryffindors," Blaise said casually. "We're losing our Slytherin reputation. All the other houses think we've gone soft. Even the Hufflepuffs look down on us."

Draco scoffed. "Not that the idea of pranking the Gryffindors isn't appealing, but I'm almost positive we're still terrifying Slytherins in the eyes of all the other houses." Just then, a gaggle of 3rd-year girls walked by, whispering. When Draco glanced over at them, they broke into a fit of giggles, then ran away, glancing back at him every so often. Draco turned back to Blaise. "So what's the plan?"

Blaise smirked. "More like who's the target. I've already got everything figured out." Draco smirked. "You know, just because Harry and I are cool now, doesn't mean we can't play a friendly joke every now and then."

Blaise just gave him a knowing look. "Sure, Draco. But I like the way you think."

————————————————————————

Harry was having a really bad morning. His nightmares had kept him awake through the night. When he finally got to sleep, he was shaken awake only hours later by Ron, whom he had subsequently yelled at. Ron was bewildered by his awful attitude and had left him alone to go to breakfast. Harry had felt bad about it immediately after, but it wasn't enough to snap him out of his mood.

He had stormed up the stairs to breakfast, muttering curses darkly. He glared at a few 2nd years, who immediately squeaked in fear and scattered out of his way. He plopped down on the bench at the Gryffindor table. Dean scooted a few inches away from him.

Harry was walking to class now, head throbbing in time with his footsteps. He was seriously considering skiving off classes and going back to sleep. He decided against it, desperately reminding himself of the benefits of going to class. Hermione would have been so proud.

Suddenly, the bottom of his bag tore and all his books fell out. He groaned with anger and stooped to pick them up. A pale hand shot out to grab some of his ink and spare quills. Harry glanced up to see Draco, helping to pick up his stuff.

"Thanks," he grumbled out. "I think I need a new bag, this one's getting old." Draco rolled his eyes at him. "Really, Harry. You need to stop keeping all your old stuff. I cannot believe you wear the same pajamas you wore in first year, it's disgraceful for our savior to be in such drab clothing." Normally, Harry would have recognized the joking tone and shot a playful insult back, but today he was just not in the mood.

"Sod off, Malfoy," he growled. Draco looked taken aback. "Fine, Potter, I was only trying to help. I apologize if I offended your delicate sensibilities." Draco sounded slightly hurt, but Harry couldn't bring himself to care. He finished stuffing the last of his things into his repaired bag, then stalked off to class.

Over the course of the day, his bag split a few more times. In class, in the corridors, in the Great Hall, it happened all the time. Harry was getting seriously fed up. He noticed Draco watching him a few of the times, but he never tried to help again. Harry was walking down to the dungeons now, on his way to the common room. He was beginning to suspect that someone had been tearing his bag. Sure enough, he heard quiet footsteps behind him and a whispered, "Diffin-"

But Harry was too quick for them. Whipping around, he pointed his wand and yelled, "Expelliarmus!" A wand flew in an arc and Harry easily caught it with his Seeker's reflexes. The wand was very, very familiar to him. In fact, it belonged to-

"Draco?" Harry said, shocked. "You were the one tearing my bag?" He quickly grew angry. He thought they had moved on from their childish feud. They had made a truce for Marlin's sake!

Draco shrugged. "Yes, Blaise and I both did it. It was quite a funny joke, don't you think?" And Harry might have agreed because if it was someone else it would have been quite entertaining to see them get more and more frustrated over their "broken" bag. But it was not someone else, and Harry had been having a particularly awful day. Still, it didn't entirely excuse his following actions.

A rush of rage prompted him to launch himself at Draco, who suddenly looked very worried and slightly terrified. Draco held his hands up in surrender, but that didn't stop Harry from pinning him to the wall. Harry's forearm was pushed against Draco's throat, his other hand pointing his wand at Draco's face. Draco didn't even struggle.

"Do you know how many times I've been late to class because I had to stop and pick up all my stuff? Do you know how many people have laughed at me while I stood there like an idiot? DO YOU KNOW JUST HOW ANNOYING YOUR LITTLE TRICK WAS?" Harry was panting and Draco's face was slowly turning red. Harry slightly lessened the force he was using so the blonde could breathe. Draco coughed then said, "Harry, if you're going to yell at me, can you do it without being so bloody close?"

And now Harry noticed what kind of a position they were in. Their bodies were pressed up together, Draco pinned against the wall. Harry's face was very close to Draco's, so close that their breaths were mingling together. Suddenly his bad mood evaporated and was replaced by a rush of excitement and arousal.

"Harry," Draco whispered, and it sounded so similar to his dream from over a week ago that he immediately blushed and his breath hitched. Draco noticed. Harry wondered if he would always have that reaction when Draco whispered his name. He was no longer putting any pressure on the boy's neck, his arm was just lying across his shoulders loosely. Draco slowly reached up to cup Harry's cheek. They stared into each other's eyes. Harry moved his arm so that his palm was against the wall next to Draco's head, his wand arm hanging limply by his side.

"Harry," Draco whispered again. Harry's eyes fluttered closed but snapped open again when the blonde whispered again. "Kiss me." Harry searched the gray eyes for any hint of amusement or insincerity that would indicate that he was joking. But he found none.

Slowly, he tentatively brought his lips closer to Draco's. He felt the other boy's breath on his lips, and then finally their lips were touching. Draco sighed into the kiss and his other hand reached up to tangle itself into the raven black hair. They moved slowly, trying to memorize how the other's lips felt. Then, Harry felt a hot tongue licking at his bottom lip and he gasped, allowing Draco to enter his mouth. Draco was thorough, exploring every inch of his mouth with his tongue. Their kiss was hot, searing, as Harry took over and pushed his tongue into Draco's mouth. Harry's arms had wound themselves around Draco's neck and they were kissing passionately. Draco tugged on Harry's hair, rougher than he had in his dream. But Harry still gave a delighted moan, spurring their kiss into new heights of intensity.

Suddenly, without warning, Draco thrust his hips forward into Harry's, giving him a very clear sign of just how aroused he was. Harry broke the kiss, surprised. Draco's lips were swollen, his eyes hooded with lust. It should be illegal to look that desirable, Harry thought before he pulled away. Draco looked confused.

"What's wrong, Harry?" Even his voice had become rougher. Harry backed away. It was all too fast. He wasn't ready for this. He had only discovered his attraction to men a week ago, it was too soon to start doing things. He hadn't even gone that far with girls, he definitely wasn't ready to go there with guys. So, in a very un-Gryffindorish move, Harry ran away.

Harry ran all the way to the common room. He burst in, ignoring the startled looks everyone had. He scanned the room and spotted Ron and Hermione doing their work in a corner. He marched up to them and grabbed Hermione's arm, motioning for Ron to follow them. He dragged her to her dorm room. He certainly couldn't go to his own dorm, and Ron's was in the same general direction. He dragged Hermione to her bed and sat down opposite her. Ron sat next to Hermione, and it was suddenly very similar to the day when he came out to them.

He took a deep breath. Hermione gave him an encouraging look. She had figured out that something was wrong, while Ron still just looked confused. Harry opened his mouth, then closed it again. Hermione smiled gently. "You can tell us, Harry. Don't worry. Whatever it is, we can figure it out." Harry fidgeted with his sleeve.

"IkindofgotmadatdracoandthenIpinnedhimagainstthewallandwekindofkissed." He rushed out. Hermione raised an eyebrow. "Now again, in English, please." So Harry told them the whole story of how he had kissed Draco and then run away. Ron looked gobsmacked.

"-and so I came here to talk to you because I have no idea what to do." Hermione didn't look the least bit surprised. "Well, did you enjoy it? Or were you uncomfortable?"

Harry shifted. "Well I liked the snogging bit but the...other part...was too much too soon, I think." Hermione looked thoughtful. Ron still looked shocked. Harry glanced at him. "I thought you said you wouldn't be surprised if we were shagging?" He asked his friend. Ron shook his head in disbelief. "I know mate, but accepting it when it's not actually happening is a lot easier." He shrugged. Harry turned back to Hermione.

"Well, I think this only confirms your bisexuality," Hermione said, smiling. Harry opened his mouth. "But I ran away. Knowing his...thing was right there made me feel weird." Hermione shook her head. "As you said, you simply weren't ready. You thought you were straight for most of your life, so it's no surprise this feels weird to you. Honestly, I think you were just caught off guard. Girls don't have penises, so you've never had to deal with that before. Give it time. The more you do things with guys, the less awkward it will become. It should start to feel as natural as being with a girl."

Ron looked slightly queasy. "Can we please not talk about Malfoy's prick? It's making me uncomfortable." Harry laughed and Hermione rolled her eyes. She really was the best. Harry didn't know how he would survive if he didn't have her.


	15. Chapter 14

Weeks passed while Harry avoided Draco. Every time he saw a flash of blonde, he turned and walked the other way. Unfortunately, this meant that he was late to a lot of classes and rarely ever saw Luna. But Harry couldn't avoid Draco in their dorm. He did try, though. He got up extra early, even though his nightmares kept him up late. He stayed out in the common room until he felt sleepy and then went straight to bed. Whenever he saw Draco in the common room, he made sure to sit on the opposite side. But it wasn't really working.

Harry was still hyper-aware of the blonde's every movement. He couldn't concentrate on anything Snape said in potions, because he was too busy trying not to pay attention to Draco. Even though he didn't look at him, he knew exactly when Draco had entered the Great Hall. This was bloody worse than 6th year, and even he knew it.

Harry, Ron, and Hermione were walking up to dinner when they bumped into someone else walking the other way. Harry pulled back, mouth open to apologize. Then, he recognized the familiar gray eyes and angled face, muttered a quick, "sorry," and hurried past. But it seemed like he wasn't about to get away that easily.

"Stop!" Parkinson snarled at him. He froze, then slowly turned to face her. She was livid, her eyes lighting up in anger and an ugly scowl resting on her face. "Is that all you have to say, Potter? After what you did?" For one horror-filled moment, he thought Parkinson was blaming him for the kiss and wondered if Draco had really told her. "You've been avoiding Draco for weeks, and 'sorry' is all you can come up with?" She screeched.

Harry sagged in relief. He felt the insane urge to laugh but then quickly thought better of it. "Er-" he said intelligently. Draco, who was avoiding looking at him, tugged at Parkinson's arm. "It's okay, Pans. Let it go." She turned her rage on him.

"No, it is not okay! You're wasting away, darling. You've lost nearly ten pounds, and I refuse to let your constant pining turn you into a skeleton!" Now that Harry looked closely, Draco did look a bit thinner than usual. But what did Parkinson mean by pining? Hermione had that look on her face, the one that meant 'I figured out something.' It was the same one she wore in 2nd year before running off to the library and getting petrified.

Draco looked angry now. "Leave it, Pans," he hissed at her. Then, he tugged her away into the Great Hall without so much as another word. Zabini, who had been watching all this quietly, gave Harry an apologetic look and followed his friends.

Harry, stunned, looked towards his friends. Ron was wearing a similar expression, while Hermione just looked a bit smug. He shook his head in utter confusion, and together they went into the Great Hall.

As soon as they sat down, Hermione turned to him. "Pansy's right, Harry. You have been a bit mean to Draco. He doesn't know why you've been avoiding him. He probably thinks it's because you regret kissing him! He must be quite upset." Harry looked away, guiltily. Ron came to his defense, like the loyal friend he was. "It is kind of Draco's fault, 'Mione. He's the one that went too fast for Harry."

"But he didn't know that. He probably thinks you hate him, Harry! You should tell him, and if you don't want to, at least tell him that it's not his fault." Hermione argued back. Harry sighed, because she was right, like always. Instead of acknowledging it, he looked over across the hall to Draco. He was picking at his food morosely, barely eating anything. He really was quite thin.

"Merlin, he is depressed," Harry said in surprise. Hermione and Ron looked over their shoulders and then back at Harry. "Whatever do you mean, Harry? He looks a bit sad but depressed?" Hermione said confusedly. Harry nodded. "His plate is full of vegetables. He usually fills it with one-third vegetables, one-third protein, and one-third grain. And he's barely eating. And none of it is French or Italian food. He didn't eat any protein in 6th year, and it didn't get this bad until later when it got closer to when he...you know. And in 4th year, during the Tournament, he never ate French or Italian, which he usually does. I figured he was mad about not getting to participate when I did. But he's never done both at the same time. He must feel terrible. You're right, I do need to apologize." He directed the last part at Hermione, who was staring. Ron was, too. "What?" He asked, shifting uncomfortably.

Ron shook his head. "Just how much do you know about Malfoy's eating habits, Harry?" Harry looked between him and Hermione, confused. "Not much. He likes to eat eggs and toast for breakfast, with fruit and pumpkin juice. He usually eats some type of sandwich for lunch or soup. When he's mad, he picks at his food a lot. When he's smug or happy, he eats sweeter foods. When he's planning something, he eats more fruit and fewer grains. Really, I'm surprised that neither of you know this." They were gaping at him now.

"Harry, could you tell me, what do I prefer when I stress over exams?" Hermione asked curiously. Harry opened his mouth, hesitating. "You like...white meat. Like fish and poultry." Hermione shook her head, smiling gently. "I don't like to eat meat when I'm nervous. It makes me feel strange. I like pudding because it soothes me." Harry looked from her to Ron, who looked suddenly amused. "That- that doesn't mean anything! I just...I had to observe him so I could figure out when he was up to something, that's all! And his eating habits happen to be really indicative of his mood!" Hermione rolled her eyes. "Of course, Harry." She turned and whispered to Ron. "I don't understand why he didn't figure out his attractions sooner." Ron snickered, and Harry ignored them. He watched Draco push his food around a bit more, and suddenly couldn't take it anymore. He got up and began crossing the hall.

Zabini saw him heading in their direction. He nudged Draco and said something, making his head shoot up. His eyes widened when he saw Harry. Harry stopped and motioned for Draco to meet him outside. Draco glanced at his friends, who said something, before he looked back and nodded, standing up and walking towards the exit. Harry followed close behind, ignoring the whispering that broke out at their strange interaction.

Draco was waiting just outside the doors, but Harry grabbed his wrist and pulled him further along a hallway. He glanced both directions, then pulled Draco into the closest empty classroom. He let go of his wrist, turning to face an impassive Draco. "What is it, Potter?" He asked coolly.

"Harry," he corrected him. "And I figured I should apologize. I didn't mean to avoid you, well I did, but-"

"Don't. If you're apologizing because of what Pansy said earlier, then I would rather you didn't. I am fine." Draco interrupted him rather huffily.

"Oh, don't be a prat, Draco. I can tell when you're upset, you know. And I'm not apologizing because of Pansy, though she was right. What I meant is that I was avoiding you, but it wasn't because of anything you did. Well, it was, but- Merlin, I'm bad at this." Harry took a breath and rushed on to make sure Draco heard everything he had to say. "I was avoiding you because of certain things that are entirely my own issues, and no part of it was through any fault of your own. Please, don't blame yourself. It's not your fault I'm having a bisexual crisis." Harry flushed darkly when he realized that he had just outed himself. Draco suddenly looked terribly interested. "You're bisexual? Really? Since when?"

Harry looked away. "I mean...er, yeah, I am. And I guess I always was bisexual, but I only realized it just after you-" Harry stopped suddenly. He wondered why he had been given the gift of speech if it was just going to go and ruin his life like that. "After I what?" Draco asked shrewdly.

"Er, nothing. Nothing at all. In fact, it wasn't even you. You weren't involved in any way, shape, or capacity. Forget you were even mentioned. I didn't say anything. I'm shutting up now, bye, Draco." He tried to rush out of the room, but Draco caught his arm.

"Wait, Harry. I'm sorry, it's really none of my business, especially if I'm not involved, as you seem so eager to make clear." He looked slightly amused. "I suppose it's fine, then. Avoid me all you like, until you've sorted yourself out. I won't lie and say I'm entirely fine with it, because as your friend, I'm not. But if this is what you need, then I'm willing to wait." Draco finished gently, smiling at Harry in a way that was entirely unfair because of how much it made him want to hug the other boy.

Harry smiled uncomfortably. "Yeah. Thanks, I guess. I'll try to get over it quickly. You shouldn't have to suffer for my problems. I just...need some space for a bit. Just give me some time." Draco looked slightly disappointed but agreed. Just as Harry was about to leave, Draco said in a small voice, "Harry? We'll be okay, right?"

Harry desperately wanted to wrap Draco in his arms, but he couldn't move. He gave Draco a weak smile instead. "Yeah, Draco. We'll be fine."

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Draco sighed. It wasn't that big of a deal. He could live with Harry avoiding him for a while longer. He had lived with being his nemesis for years, so this wasn't all that much, comparatively. But at least he had been able to see Harry then. Now, he barely saw the beautiful green eyes, the messy black hair, and gorgeous golden skin. He only saw flashes of Harry out of the corner of his eye, unless they were in class. He missed him. It was almost too cruel that Draco had finally become friends with Harry only to mess up and ask him to kiss him. At least this was better than if the Gryffindor had refused. Salazar, that would have been awkward.

The next day, Draco went through classes as usual. After being assigned a particularly large stack of homework, he decided it was time to visit the library. Unfortunately, he was not the only one with this idea. The library was very crowded, and with a resigned sigh, he headed for the table he had shared with Harry before.

He stopped short. Harry was already sitting there, alone, chewing on the end of a quill endearingly and staring at a book. Draco hesitated but decided that this probably qualified as some type of extenuating circumstance, and it would be okay to ignore Harry's request, just this once. With that in mind, he readjusted his grip on his books and walked to the table. Harry glanced up as he neared, breaking out into a tentative smile. "Draco. I was wondering if I should try to come to find you. This potions assignment is a bloody nightmare."

Draco internally sighed with relief as Harry evidently didn't have a problem with him sitting there. He rolled his eyes. "It's not that difficult, Harry. All the answers are in the textbook if you know where to look." Harry flung his quill down dramatically. "But that's the problem! I don't know where to look." Draco sat down next to the frustrated boy. "That's what I'm here for. Well, that and the mountains of homework all the professors decided we needed." Harry laughed. Draco smiled and scooted closer.

"All the answers are in chapter 3, of course. Some are in the first section, and all the rest are in the third. Don't bother with the second section, it'll just confuse you." Draco informed him, taking out some parchment and a quill. Harry groaned. "I've been looking in the second section the whole time. Figures. Thanks, you're a lifesaver."

Draco looked away. "I'm not sure about that one." Harry halted in the middle of flipping through pages. He turned to Draco. "Draco Malfoy, you have saved my life in a few different ways, and we have been over this. You didn't kill him. Snape did." Harry scolded him. Draco still refused to meet his eyes. "But he had to because of me. He made the vow because my mother wanted to protect me. It's my fault."

Harry huffed. "It's not your fault. It's Voldemort's. He's the one that ordered you and the one that threatened you. It's entirely his fault. And if you really want, you can blame your father for messing up at the Ministry and making Voldemort angry. Really, it's my fault for getting away in 5th year." Harry said confidently, looking slightly crestfallen at his realization.

Draco snorted. "How can you blame yourself for that? You fought for your life. And really, Harry, you can't take the blame for everything. It's selfish." Harry sighed. "Whatever. My point is that this isn't your fault. There are so many people you can blame, but you were a victim, merely a pawn in Voldemort's game. You did what you could, sabotaging your own plans, and only doing what was necessary." Harry turned back to his book.

"Thanks, Harry. But actually, I just remembered something you said at the trial. You said Dumbledore and Snape had planned it all ahead. Is that true?" Draco asked curiously.

Harry nodded, chewing on his quill again. Draco tugged it out of his mouth, mumbling something about bad habits. Harry cleared his throat. "Yeah. When Nagini attacked Snape, he gave me some of his memories, thinking that he was going to die. He really can be so dramatic. Did he really think I wouldn't do anything? Anyways, I healed a couple of the wounds, then brought him back to Pomfrey. But then I rushed to Dumbledore's office and put the memories into his Pensieve. Among other things, there was a memory in which Dumbledore asked Snape to be the one to kill him when the time came. He was already dying and was worried about the purity of your soul." Harry told him quietly.

Draco's throat closed up. The man he had been trying to kill had been worried about his soul. He suddenly had the urge to beg forgiveness from the dead headmaster. Harry squeezed his shoulder in sympathy before turning back to his book. Draco shook himself and stared blankly at his empty parchment.


	16. Chapter 15

As Halloween approached, the teachers decided it was an absolutely marvelous idea to drown them in work. Every 5th, 7th, and 8th year spent every last free moment studying and doing homework. Harry was fed up. One particularly lovely afternoon, he was quite unfortunately stuck inside studying in his dorm. Draco was the only other one in the room when Harry suddenly slammed his book shut, causing him to jump in surprise.

"What is it, Harry?" Draco asked exasperatedly. Harry gave him a grin. "Let's go flying. I need a break, and so do you. C'mon, we can have a seeker's game." Draco looked alarmed. "Harry! We can't just go flying; there's so much work to do!" Harry gave him a challenging smirk. "Scared, Malfoy?" He taunted. Draco stared at him for a minute.

"You wish, Potter. Give me a moment to grab my broom, and we'll see who's the better Seeker." He leaped off the bed, gracefully. About ten minutes later, they were walking out onto the Quidditch pitch, laughing and insulting each other playfully. Harry grabbed a spare practice Snitch reserved for Seeker's games, and, after a look at Draco, released it. They counted to five together, then took off at almost the same time.

Harry swooped through the air, circling the pitch out of habit. He laughed, suddenly exhilarated, and flawlessly executed a couple of feints and loops. Suddenly eager to beat Draco, Harry looked around for a flash of gold. There! But, no, that wasn't the Snitch, that was the sun glinting off of Draco's obscenely blonde hair. It wasn't fair how confusingly similar in color it was to the fluttering golden sphere. Harry dragged his eyes away and scanned the pitch once more. Only seconds later, he was distracted yet again by Draco's hair. He pulled his eyes away and tried to concentrate.

"What's wrong, Harry? Lost your touch? Is this what Gryffindor's prized Seeker has been reduced to?" Draco laughed mockingly at him and flew in circles around his head, hair streaming behind him. He looked so happy. Harry couldn't stop staring at him, not even noticing when Draco abruptly pulled his broom up, flying high into the air. He did, however, notice the little fluttering slightly above the other boy, and was horrified to notice that he hadn't even been looking for the Snitch. Draco caught it easily, whooping and coming down to gloat. Harry smiled fondly, and his discontent vanished like magic.

Harry proved to be very inattentive when Draco was concerned. He only just managed to catch the Snitch a few times, but not enough to be ahead of Draco. He couldn't help but watch as Draco flew effortlessly, eyes shining brightly with delight. He pulled himself out of his stupor, and flew around, determined to get the Snitch this time. He saw it, a glimmer of gold near the forest, and turned, speeding off after it. Draco was close behind him.

Just as he was about to snatch it out of the air, the Snitch abruptly shot upwards, but Harry was going too fast to stop. He careened onwards and heard Draco shout his name. He panicked and tried to slow his broom, but he inevitably crashed into the thick layer of trees. Draco swooped under him, trying to catch him, but his momentum carried them both off of the broom and tumbling to the ground. He clutched Draco to him in terror, yelling as they both fell.

They landed with a thud, Harry beneath Draco. Luckily, it seemed like he hadn't broken anything, and Draco's fall was cushioned by him, so he was probably fine too. With a groan of pain, Draco lifted his head to glare at Harry.

"Harry, what in Merlin's name were you thinking? You could have been seriously hurt! Honestly, if you were going to be this distracted the whole bloody time, I wouldn't have agreed to this." Draco huffed angrily. Harry tried to look apologetic but was very distracted by Draco's lean body stretched out on top of his. Draco continued his rant, scowling at Harry the entire time.

"And we could have been studying this- Harry, are you even listening to me?" Draco asked, stopping in the middle of his tirade. Harry smiled sheepishly. "No." Draco looked scandalized. "So, you didn't hear a thing I said?" Harry shook his head. Draco let his head fall back onto Harry's chest in frustration. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

"This is your punishment for not listening to me. You have to stay here until I let you go." Draco's muffled voice floated up. Harry sighed exasperatedly. "It's not much of a punishment," he mumbled quietly.

"What was that?" Draco asked suspiciously, but it would have sounded more threatening if Harry had been able to hear him properly. He rolled his eyes. "Can I get up now?" He asked in a fake-nice voice. "No," was Draco's petulant response. "Then you leave me no choice," Harry said dramatically, pretending to be resigned. Before Draco could respond, he flipped the two of them, so he was on top of Draco. Draco squeaked in surprise. Harry pushed up onto his forearms and saw the other boy staring at him in shock. Harry smirked at him, then leaned down. Draco's breath hitched, and Harry smiled at that, before continuing down until his mouth was beside Draco's ear.

"You won," he whispered, making Draco shiver. Then, he pushed all the way off of the ground, rolling away and standing up. He offered his hand to Draco, who took it and pulled him up. Then, without a glance backward, he collected his broom and made his way up to the castle.

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Draco was quite enjoying lying on top of Harry. The black-haired boy was very comfortable and quite warm. It was all very nice until the prat decided to flip them over. Draco let out a very un-Malfoyish sound that he would most definitely later deny making. Then, Harry, the absolute tease, had leaned down and whispered, "You won" into his ear. And he had shivered. Shivered. He had lost every ounce of the Malfoy dignity in that moment.

He wondered if Harry was intent on driving him mad. Now that he knew Draco was attracted to him, would he turn around and take advantage of it to torment him? Only a year ago, Draco would not have been surprised if he did. But things were different now. They were friends. Weren't they? Perhaps this was all a ruse designed by Harry and the Weasel to humiliate him. Actually, that made perfect sense. Draco tried to push his bleak thoughts to the back of his mind, but he could still feel them lurking.

Halloween was tomorrow, and the whole school was abuzz with preparation. Hagrid brought in over a dozen incredibly large pumpkins, which were carved using spells to depicts various scenes. The Great Hall was spectacularly decorated in orange and black, bats occasionally flying around. Peeves took great delight in becoming invisible and sneaking up behind students to whisper "boo" in their ears. And occasionally, when a student was walking alone, they swore they heard mysterious cackling and whispering. Thus, everyone had begun to travel as groups, which led to quite a lot of traffic in the corridors.

The next morning, Draco awoke in a fairly decent mood, made only better by the fact that it was Friday. While he got dressed, Nott and Goldstein also woke up and left at varying times. When he walked out of the bathroom, he saw Harry still fast asleep. He rolled his eyes and approached the bed.

"Harry," he sang brightly. "Time to get up, or you'll miss breakfast!" Harry groaned into his pillow and mumbled something unintelligible. "What was that, Harry? I don't speak the language of the inarticulate." He said sarcastically. Harry didn't respond.

Draco sat on the edge of the bed. "Harry? Are you alright?" He asked, slightly concerned now. Harry still didn't answer. Draco shook him. "Harry?"

"What?" Harry snapped at him, finally raising his head. Draco reared his head back at the irate tone. "I'm sorry - I was just trying to help. You shouldn't miss breakfast, otherwise, you'll be hungry for the rest of the day." Draco tried to reason. Harry glared defiantly at him. "I don't want to. I'm not going to class. Now go away." He bit out. Draco blinked, surprised at how Harry was acting.

"Why aren't you going to class?" He asked, trying to adopt a soothing tone. Harry glared at him harder. "It's none of your business, Malfoy. Just leave!" Harry nearly shouted and turned to face the other way. Draco was horrified to find himself tearing up. "Okay, Harry. I'm sorry." He winced at how hurt he sounded. Draco quickly turned and moved to exit the room.

"Wait, Draco. I'm sorry for snapping. It was uncalled for." Harry's voice called after him. Draco stopped but didn't turn around. He heard rustling noises behind him, and then Harry was tugging his arm so Draco would face him. Harry looked very apologetic.

"I really am sorry, Draco. It's just- it's Halloween. My parents...they died on Halloween. Voldemort tried to kill me, the first time, on this very day eleven years ago. Before, it wasn't so hard, but after I saw them again...this day just makes me depressed. But still, I shouldn't have been rude to you." Harry said, hesitating but offering Draco a pained smile. Draco pulled Harry into a hug. The other boy was stiff for a few seconds, but eventually relaxed and put his arms around Draco too.

"You don't have to apologize, Harry. I'm sorry, I should have known about today. I'll tell our professors you're sick, but I'm still bringing you breakfast and lunch. You need to eat, Harry. They would have wanted you to be healthy. And happy. But sometimes, happy just isn't feasible, and that's alright too. But please, you have to eat." Draco was nearly begging, and he kind of wanted to hit himself over the head for being so pathetic.

Harry smiled into his shoulder. "Thanks, Draco. It means more than you could ever know." He whispered softly. Draco patted him on the back before pulling away. He gave Harry one last sad smile, then hurried off to breakfast.

He returned about twenty minutes later with a plate full of food. Harry was sitting on his bed with his knees pulled up to his chest. He was staring into space and didn't react when Draco came in. Draco sat next to Harry, then touched his shoulder to get his attention. He silently handed over the plate of food. Harry just stared at it blankly.

"I can't even remember them." He said, out of nowhere. "The only pictures I have of them are in a photo book Hagrid gave me in 1st year. I saw them then, too, in the Mirror of Erised." Draco didn't know what that was, but he didn't interrupt to ask. "Then, in fourth year, I saw them again in the graveyard. They were just these strange ghost-like things, but they encouraged me, helping me get away from Voldemort. I saw a few memories of them in a Pensieve, too." Harry grimaced, and Draco wondered why. But Harry wasn't done. "And finally, just before I died, I was able to see them. Remus and Sirius, too. They made it better, you know. Easier to walk towards death. I couldn't have done it without them, without knowing I was going to be with them again." Silent tears fell from his eyes, but Harry didn't seem to notice. He fell silent once more, and Draco started to rub his back. Just as Draco was about to slip away, Harry said one final thing. "The Dementors. When they come close, I can hear my parents dying. My dad first, he tried to slow down Voldemort so my mum could get us to safety. Then I hear her screams, Voldemort telling her to get out of the way, then a flash of light. She needn't have died. Snape asked him not to kill her. He would have let her go." Harry sounded so vulnerable. So afraid, like a scared child. Draco couldn't possibly leave him like that. So he stayed, wrapping his arms around Harry as he cried. Harry didn't speak again for hours.

When all his tears had dried up, Harry finally straightened. He gave Draco a small smile, and Draco carefully extricated himself from the black-haired boy. The food was completely cold, but Draco made Harry eat it anyways after casting a quick warming charm. Draco fussed over Harry, making him lie down as soon as he was finished eating. Harry snuggled under the blankets, and Draco gave him a sad smile. He began to turn away to leave because he didn't want to skip any more class, but Harry caught his arm. "Stay?" He asked, and Draco couldn't possibly refuse. So he stayed, lying down beside Harry, back to back, until they both fell asleep.

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When Harry drifted back to consciousness, the first thing he noticed was that he had not had a nightmare. This was probably the first time in months that he hadn't been plagued by images from the war. He felt so very relaxed and snuggled into the warmth that was surrounding him.

The second thing he noticed was that his head was stuffy like he had been crying. Then he remembered that he had been crying. He almost cringed at the memory of being so helpless in front of Draco, but the warmth soothed him back into his relaxed state. He drifted for a while, content to lay there in a half-asleep state.

The third thing he noticed was that he was not alone. His bed shifted minutely, but Harry was still attuned to such small changes from the war. He opened his eyes but did not see anyone. He concluded that they must be behind him. As he tried to turn around, he felt arms tightly wrapped around him. That was the fourth thing he noticed.

The fifth and final thing he noticed was Draco Malfoy. He was sleeping very peacefully, his face for once devoid of all emotion. Harry took the time to appreciate the ethereal features of the pale, blonde boy. He was painfully beautiful, all angles and aristocratic bone structure. His eyelashes were incredibly long, and his hair fell over one side of his face, covering his ear. Harry spent far too long just ogling Draco. He was, in a word, perfect.

Harry turned around because he could not stand to look at Draco any longer. He still wasn't fully awake; drowsiness weighed heavily on his mind. He felt no desire to get up, especially since Draco would likely be awoken by movement. Harry wanted him to stay asleep if only so they could remain like this a while longer.

It gave Harry a chance to think about his situation with Draco. True to form, he had avoided thinking about it at all costs, preferring to ignore the problem. He had only forcibly made peace with it when Pansy had brought up his cowardice because it was affecting Draco too. But Harry had still not thought about his feelings for the boy, and what he may or may not be comfortable with.

Kissing was fine, he decided. Better than fine, actually. He desperately wanted to kiss Draco again, as many times as he could get away with. And this, the cuddling, was wonderful as well. And he thought that just maybe, he might be ready to go a little bit further. He still wasn't ready to go all the way and do the biggest thing, but he could handle some fooling around. Probably. He would handle it because he was an adult now, and adults didn't run away from physical intimacy like cowards.

The only problem that niggled at the back of his head was Draco's feelings toward him. Sure, Draco was attracted to him. That much was made clear by their last kiss. But did he like him, Harry? Or was his desire purely physical? Harry suspected it was the latter. It would be rather strange for Draco of all people to suddenly do an about-face and start liking him, not when they had been enemies for years. It was therefore much more likely that Draco simply found him attractive, Merlin knows why. Harry felt a great sadness at that. He truly liked Draco, had a crush on him even. But if friends with benefits was the closest he could get, he would take that too. He would take anything at this point, as long as they didn't retrogress. His last impossible wish was that Draco might someday like him back. But as he said, it was impossible. At least he knew Draco didn't want him for his fame.

Draco shifted, bringing his left arm up from around Harry's waist and moving his head to rest in the back of Harry's neck. His hand was now resting on the pillow, in front of Harry's face, and his forearm rested on the bed. It was almost a protective stance - like he was caging Harry in to keep him safe from harm. With a jolt, Harry recognized the edge of the Dark Mark peeking out from under Draco's arm. With hesitant fingers, he reached out and brushed it gently. The moment he touched it, Draco jerked behind him.


	17. Chapter 16

Harry jerked his hand back in surprise. He turned to face Draco. The blond was looking at him blankly, eyes wild and slightly unfocused.

"Draco?" Harry said uncertainty. The other boy didn't respond. Draco's breath was coming out in short pants, and his arms constricted around Harry, pulling him impossibly close. "Draco? Draco, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to do that. Please, everything is alright. You're fine. He's gone. I killed him, remember?" Harry spoke more urgently. Draco seemed to be calming down.

"He's really gone?" Draco whispered shakily into Harry's ear. Harry pulled back so he could smile reassuringly at Draco. "Yes, Draco, he's gone. He's never coming back, I promise." Draco nodded slowly.

"But my mark...it burned. It only burns when he..." Draco trailed off. Harry felt regret flood through him. "I'm sorry, that was my fault. I touched it, but I didn't think it would burn like that." Draco looked at him in shock.

"You touched it? Why would you want to touch it? It's vile, horrid, and a reminder of everything that went wrong in my life." Draco said, bringing his arm up to his face so he could look at the mark with unadulterated disgust.

Harry shook his head. "You didn't want it, Draco. You didn't want that thing on your arm. That's why I don't have a problem with seeing it, or with touching it. Because you didn't want it to be there. It reminds me that you're not such a bad person." Harry smiled at him. Draco looked taken aback.

"The mark of a murderer reminds you that I'm not a bad person?" He asked skeptically. Harry shook his head. "No, it's- it's difficult to explain. It just...it reminds me of everything you've done, but also everything you didn't do. You could have been so much worse, you know? But you fought against it, even when your life was at stake. You never embraced the darkness like so many others could and would have done. Despite everything else, you never embraced him." Harry tried to reason. Draco still didn't seem to buy it.

"Look," Harry said, grabbing Draco's left arm. He turned it so he could see the Mark. "Looking at it is no problem." He brought his fingers down to brush across it, trailing the dark lines. "Touching it is no problem." Then, he hesitated. He brought his lips down slowly. "What are you doing?" Draco breathed. Harry's lips slowly brushed the Mark. He let them rest there for a second, marveling at the complete lack of disgust he felt, then lifted his head back up to look at Draco. "See? No problem at all." Harry said confidently. Draco stared at him for a second.

"Thank you," he finally said quietly. Harry just smiled at him softly. After a moment, confusion flitted across the other boy's face. "Why do I have my arms around you? I clearly remember going to sleep back to back." He said uncertainty. Harry snickered. "Can't keep your hands off me even asleep, Malfoy? Though I must say, they certainly kept my nightmares away. Thanks for that." Harry ended seriously.

"But," Draco said slowly, "you're okay with this? What happened to...to space?" Harry smirked. "Yes, I'm alright with this. Didn't I tell you I thought things over?"

Draco shook his head. "I very clearly remember you asking for space. But who am I to complain? Though we should get up soon, it's nearly time for the feast." Draco said, a bit unwillingly. Harry nodded. "You're right, we should probably move before Nott or Goldstein comes in and sees us." Draco disentangled his arms from around Harry, and they moved apart, getting off the bed. Harry headed for his trunk to find some clothes, while Draco went to the bathroom to freshen up.

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After checking the time, Draco determined that the last class was still in progress, and they had a couple of hours before the feast. He began his work, even though it was due the following week. It was better to stay on top of things than to rush the assignment at the last minute.

Harry had the opposite philosophy, of course. He was just starting the eighteen-inch essay due the next day. They worked on their own, but occasionally Harry would throw out a question, and Draco would answer him succinctly. It was quite relaxing.

That all ended when Pansy, followed closely by Granger, burst into their room. Blaise and the Weasel trailed behind the girls. "Where were you two?" Pansy shrieked at them. Draco and Harry shared a glance.

"I suppose I don't have to tell you, Draco, that skipping class is never worth it, but Harry! You can't just miss your classes for no reason; they're important, especially this year. What if you missed something on your N.E.W.T.s?" Granger said, calmer than Pansy. Draco shot the mudbl- Granger a look. "He had a perfectly good reason to skip. I suggest hearing him out before you decide to berate him." Draco scolded her. She looked taken aback but turned to Harry. Harry shot him an annoyed look, but he began speaking quietly to her and the Weasel, while Blaise and Pansy came over to him.

"Well?" Pansy said, hands on her hips, foot tapping the ground. Draco sighed. "Harry didn't want to leave because... because of reasons that I cannot and will not reveal. So I brought him breakfast, but then he asked me not to leave, so I didn't. He needed me, Pans, I honestly couldn't leave him like that." Pansy looked a bit miffed.

"You could have told us! We were worried!" Pansy pouted, put out. Draco gave her an appeasing look. "I know, Pans. But I didn't know I was going to stay until I was up here, and there was no way to contact either of you." Draco reasoned. Pansy nodded reluctantly. "I'll let it go this time, but I expect that next time you will tell one of us. Alright, darling?" Draco nodded, rolling his eyes. "Yes, mother."

All six of them made their way down to the feast together, however awkward. Granger wasn't all that bad to talk to. She was still a bit annoying, but at least she could hold an intellectual conversation. Granger and Pansy seemed to get along quite well, too. The Weasel and Blaise even had an awkward, short exchange.

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They walked into the Great Hall all together. Many of the students started whispering, but McGonagall looked quite proud. They separated to their tables, then began to dig in. There was a large spread of delightful foods, and Ron looked gleeful. Harry spent the time chatting away amicably with the other Gryffindors and occasionally glancing at Draco. Sometimes their eyes would meet, and they would share a smile.

Seamus was the first to say anything about it. "Harry, why d'you keep looking at Malfoy? And he's smiling. I don't reckon I've ever seen him smile before. You sure those rumors aren't actually true?" Seamus grinned at him. "Of course not, Seamus. We're only friends, and that's it." Harry assured him.

"For now," Ron muttered beside him, in between stuffing his mouth full of chicken and turkey. Harry smacked him upside the head and glanced around furtively, but no one had heard. Everyone had heard Harry's comment, though, and they were all looking at him in surprise, aside from Hermione and Ron. "What?" He asked. Dean spoke up. "Never thought I'd see the day when you and Malfoy decided to become buddies." Harry rolled his eyes. "He's not all that bad anymore. And we're dorm mates, we have to get along, or we'd be too preoccupied to sleep."

Everyone was still shocked. "I think it's great, Harry. Ron, we should be doing the same thing with Zabini, I'm sure we'll find he's not that bad either." Neville said evenly. Harry shot him a grateful smile. Ron didn't.

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Draco was elated. Harry kept glancing over at him and smiling, and each and every time his eyes would light up with the mischief of a shared secret and-

Blaise flicked his forehead. "Stop daydreaming about Potter, Draco. You have a ridiculously soppy smile on your face, and it's embarrassing me." Draco scowled at his supposed friend but made sure his face was carefully blank. Pansy leaned forward, resting her head on her hand. Her perfectly manicured fingers drummed against the table annoyingly.

"Did something happen between you two, Draco? While you were all alone together in your dorm, no one around to stop you..." she trailed off suggestively. Draco spluttered. "Of course not, we didn't do anything of the sort!" She raised an eyebrow sardonically. "So you spent hours doing absolutely nothing? Don't lie, Draco, it's boring."

Draco chose his next words carefully so he wouldn't give too much away or imply anything...unseemly. "We spent the entire time napping. Harry was having...he was dealing with something, and he drifted off, and so did I. Nothing happened." Pansy did not seem impressed with this.

"So you had him to yourself for an entire morning and afternoon, and you wasted it sleeping. Honestly, Draco, it's like you're not even trying to seduce him." Pansy scolded.

Draco frowned at her. "I'm not. He wanted space, remember? I'm not about to go against his wishes and risk ruining this. He's worth the wait." Blaise made a gagging sound.

Draco turned and eyed him scornfully. "Like you are any better. You would be on your knees begging in a heartbeat if that's what it took to date Longbottom, Merlin knows why." Blaise grinned unrepentantly. "I would be on my knees for him for other reasons too." He said under his breath. Pansy and Draco both ignored him.

"But you know," Draco started absentmindedly, "when we woke up, he was saying something about having thought things over...and he didn't mind me touching him..." he trailed off, now unaware of his audience.

"So it was more than just sleeping, after all?" Pansy asked waspishly. Draco jumped. "What makes you say that?" He asked innocently, but Pansy glared at him. "Perhaps the fact that you two shared a bed and weren't planning on telling us." Draco shrugged. "I suppose we did sleep in the same bed, but it was only sleeping. Not even a kiss to speak of." Pansy looked like she didn't believe him. Draco looked up to see Harry watching him again and smiled.

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That night, Harry rushed to get ready for bed so he wouldn't have to face Draco. He had a strong feeling that it would be awkward with what he had said earlier, and he had long ago learned to trust his instincts. He brushed his teeth and changed into pajamas at top speed, clambering into bed and shutting the curtains firmly.

That night he had one of the worst nightmares yet. He was in Voldemort's head again, seeing through his eyes. He had to watch as everyone he knew was murdered in front of him, seemingly by his own hand. They screamed and tried to run, blaming him for their deaths. And the worst part was the sick, alien satisfaction he felt twisting inside him as each body hit the ground.

He tried to scream and cry and curse Voldemort for all he was worth, but the only thing that came out was a high, cold laugh.

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, breathing hard. He sat up and buried his face into his hands, close to tears. He had never cried from a dream before, and this was the closest he would ever allow himself to get. If he cried, the nightmares would be given more power—the power to break him beyond repair.

As was becoming his nightly ritual, Harry slipped out of the curtains. As he passed the boundary of the permanent silencing spell he had around his bed, the sounds of his roommates' breathing and snoring suddenly became audible. As always, Harry glanced at Draco's bed with the drawn curtains before retrieving his map and cloak. He had used them so often recently that he didn't even have to rummage around in his trunk.

He carefully shut the door behind him and walked down the hall. He very nearly made it out of the common room.

"Harry," came Hermione's reproachful voice. Harry jumped in surprise. He hadn't even noticed his friend in one of the armchairs by the fire. And with her hair, that was saying something about Harry's observational skills that he didn't like.

"What are you doing up, Mione? It's nearly four in the morning." Hermione gave him a sharp look. "I could ask the same, Harry. I was trying to run an experiment," she gestured at the papers and notebooks surrounding her, "but what's your excuse?" She asked him.

Harry sighed. "Nightmares," He said bluntly, turning so he wouldn't have to see her. Maybe he could flee before she asked him the inevitable questions. He calculated the distance to the door and did not feel hopeful for his chances. Before he could make a run for it anyway, Hermione started the barrage.

"Do you get them every night? Do you sneak out every night? How much are you sleeping? Oh, Harry, are they truly that awful?" Hermione sounded worried.

Harry sighed. "Yes, yes, not a lot, and they are." He said, trying to answer every question while still facing the door. He heard a rustling noise, and Hermione walked up to him. She pulled him around and into one of her incredibly comforting hugs. It was like she knew the best way to give a hug in any scenario. She'd probably read a book on the techniques of hugging if Harry was being honest.

When she pulled back, Harry gave her a weak smile. "I'll be okay, Hermione. Really, I've been through worse." That didn't seem to appease her at all.

"I know Harry, but that doesn't mean that it's okay for you to keep suffering. Have you tried Dreamless Sleep?" She asked, already looking for solutions to his issue. He was infinitely grateful to have her as his friend. He nodded. "I've tried Dreamless Sleep. And just about every muggle method too. Nothing works." He said, a bit despairingly.

Hermione looked alarmed. "Have you ever slept once without having a nightmare?" She asked. Harry started to shake his head, then stopped. "Actually, earlier today. I didn't have a nightmare this afternoon, when I was taking a nap with-" he stopped himself because he hadn't told Hermione about falling asleep with Draco. But Hermione was far too sharp for him. "With Draco?" She asked gently. Harry nodded reluctantly.

She looked thoughtful. "It could be that you need to have someone with you." She said slowly. "Sometimes, you need the comfort of another person beside you. An animal might work too. A crup or a kneazle or some other creature you could sleep beside. Just knowing you're not alone could be the answer."

Harry smiled at her. "You are a genius, Hermione. Maybe I'll try that. But for tonight I'll just walk around the castle a bit like I usually do. 'Night." He said, then walked off to exit the room.

"Goodnight, Harry," she said softly.


	18. Chapter 17

The next morning, Harry woke up entirely exhausted. The nightmares were really too much. He didn't know how much longer he could survive them. Harry resolved to stay in bed until at least lunch.

Unfortunately, his so-called friends had other plans for him.

In the most unlikely pairing possible, Ron and Draco had seemingly teamed up to drag him out of bed and force him to do things. Like laze about in the common room and play chess and exploding snap.

"I still don't understand why I couldn't have done this in bed," Harry grumbled from his spot on the couch. He was stretched out, head tilted back on the armrest and eyes closed, looking for all the world like he was fast asleep. Unfortunately for him, the noise of the common room kept him from drifting off.

"Don't be boring," Draco chided him from across the chessboard, where he was playing a rather spectacular match against Ron. Harry reminded himself to thank his best mate for making an effort. Harry raised his head just enough to glare at the smug Slytherin.

Harry narrowed his eyes at him, then glanced at the chessboard. The pieces were oddly quiet, for once not shouting out nonsensical 'advice.' Maybe they sensed the skill of both players involved. Harry once again lifted his eyes to scrutinize Draco's now falsely innocent expression.

"Ron, I would watch out if I were you. Draco's Slytherin's prince, after all. He didn't earn that position for nothing." Harry warned his mate without taking his eyes off of Draco, whose face had twisted into that of mock outrage that couldn't quite disguise his pride at his title.

"Only the Golden Boy of Gryffindor would say such things," Draco accused him, eyes sparkling with mischief. Harry's heart skipped a beat, but he ignored it for all he was worth. "Takes one to know one," he retorted sweetly.

But sure enough, within a couple of moves, Draco had Ron's king trapped. "Checkmate," he announced smugly. Ron rolled his eyes good-naturedly. Harry was beyond happy that his two friends could get on without murdering each other. He really owed Ron for this.

He spent the rest of the day relaxing and ignoring Hermione's and now Draco's constant nagging to do his homework. The only difference between them was that Hermione was either cajoling or strict, whereas Draco was snide and often insulted his intelligence as a sort of method to goad him into working. He started to wonder why he had never befriended the Slytherin before if he got on so well with the other two-thirds of his trio. They could have been a quartet. With a touch of wistfulness and regret, he contemplated what might and might not have been. Harry put that to a stop quickly. It wouldn't do to dwell on things of the past.

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Harry awoke yet again from a nightmare. This was one he often had. He was alone in the old cavern where he and Dumbledore had gone to find a Horcrux, which turned out to be fake. But this time, Dumbledore wasn't there to save him from the inferi, and they dragged him down into the dark depths of the murky lake.

Harry grabbed his cloak and map, muttering the words he knew would activate the clever spell his father and his friends had wrought on the parchment. As the lines of ink smoothly appeared, he hurried through the hall and empty common room, slipping out with a familiarity born of routine.

He slowed down once he was in the halls, pausing to wrap the cloak around his body. He ambled around for a bit, scanning the corridors on his map for any sign of a teacher. His eyes were caught by a familiar name. Draco Malfoy was steadily making his way along a hall that would soon meet up with Harry's. He frowned. Usually, he looked over at the blond's bed to make sure he was asleep, especially after that first incident. He must have forgotten in his rush.

Then, in a corridor perpendicular to his, behind him, he saw, with mounting horror, Peeves rushing along at top speed. With his cloak, the poltergeist would undoubtedly pass him without notice, but if he saw Draco, he would torment him mercilessly. Harry didn't want that. If nothing else, it would make it hard to slip back into the common room without making a scene.

He very quickly made a decision. Harry ran to the end of the hall and sharply turned right, nearly bowling Draco over. He grasped his slim wrist and tugged him through the nearest door, which happened to lead to a broom closet. A very small broom closet.

Harry quickly shut the door behind them. He barely had time to turn around before he was pinned to the wall by Draco. Rather impressive, really, considering he was still invisible. Their position was very awkward. His left arm was stuck behind his back, and his right was held down by Draco's hand. Draco's body was slightly skewed to the side, and he was glaring a few inches to the left of where Harry's eyes were. The blond smelled like wind and the night air.

Harry watched as confusion, apprehension, and surprise battled each other across Draco's face before his expression finally settled into one of annoyed realization. The taller boy leaned back to make some space. The maneuver wasn't all that successful, considering the size of the closet, but Draco still managed a couple of inches, then grasped blindly in front of him and tugged, successfully ridding Harry of his cloak. Harry grinned at him sheepishly.

"I should have known, Harry. Who else would be skulking about, invisible, no less, at this time of night?" Draco asked exasperatedly. "But why, may I ask, have you accosted me-" Harry slapped his hand over Draco's mouth quickly and shook his head frantically. The blond glared at him but thankfully remained silent. Only seconds later, they could hear Peeves approaching, singing a song at the top of his lungs, and occasionally cackling. By what they could make out of it, it was quite a sexual little ditty. The off-key voice grew louder and louder before finally fading away.

Both of them held their breaths for a minute longer before Draco tugged Harry's hand off of his mouth. "Well, that was certainly close. I see now why you chose to forcibly drag me into this closet." Draco drawled. Harry flushed.

"Maybe next time, I'll let Peeves find you!" He said heatedly. Draco rolled his eyes at him. "Calm down, no need to get your knickers in a twist. I merely meant that a little bit of warning would be nice. I nearly hexed you, and we wouldn't want that now, would we?" Harry huffed at him. "I thought you purebloods had good manners. I'm not hearing any sort of gratitude coming out of that mouth of yours. Besides, what are you doing so late at night?"

Draco smirked at him. Harry could only just make out the blond's signature look in the dark room. "That's because I rather prefer putting things in my mouth to having things come out of it."

It didn't have to be an innuendo. Maybe Draco meant that he liked eating food more than he liked vomiting it out. That would be a perfectly reasonable interpretation of the statement. Unfortunately, Harry was a teenager, not all that innocent, and very prone to thinking about these kinds of things around Draco. Heat practically radiated off his face when his mind decided to conjure up images. Images where Draco just happened to be on his knees in front of Harry, putting things into his mouth. Curse his imagination.

Draco's smirk was steadily growing smugger. "Harry, are you alright?" He asked with fake innocence. "You're a bit warm. And considering how cold the castle is...are you sure you aren't getting a fever?" False concern practically dripped from his voice.

"Oh, shove off, Malfoy," Harry said with annoyance. Draco grinned at him. He leaned forwards, closer and closer, until...

"Draco," he whispered into Harry's ear. "No more last names, remember?" Then he pulled back, and his smirk was bigger than ever. Draco turned around with some difficulty, then gingerly opened the door, poking his head out.

He looked back at Harry. "All clear," he said, then pushed the door open fully and walked out.

Harry stood there for a second, then followed him. He quickly glanced at his map, and seeing that the corridors were, in fact, empty, he relaxed a bit and hurried to catch up. Draco glanced at him as he drew level with the taller boy.

"What's that?" He asked, gesturing towards the map. Harry mentally cursed himself for not wiping the parchment, before wondering if it really would be so bad if Draco knew.

Having decided, he stopped to unfold the map. Draco halted with him and watched curiously as Harry opened the parchment to its full size. He sucked in a breath in astonishment. "Is that..." he trailed off, wonder in his tone.

"Yeah," Harry nodded. "A map of Hogwarts, complete with every secret passage and hidden door ever found, along with the exact location of every being in the castle, living and non-living. The only things not on here are the Chamber of Secrets and Room of Requirement, I think. It's called the Marauder's Map," Harry recited. Draco's eyes grew impossibly wide.

"You absolute wanker," he breathed. "You've had this the whole time? How positively unfair! Where did you even come across this?"

Harry grinned. "The Weasley twins gave it to me in third year. They nicked it from Filch's office." Draco shook his head in annoyEd impatience. "That squib couldn't levitate a feather, let alone make this. Where did he get it from?"

Harry stared at the parchment, his eyes idly tracking the Grey Lady as she wandered along the fourth floor. "Probably confiscated it from my dad or Sirius. They made it, along with Remus and Peter Pettigrew."

Draco gasped. "Your dad made this? And the werewolf and Black? And Wormtail? But this is seriously complicated magic, at least the level of some of the lesser Charms Masters. There is no way they made this in school!"

Harry shrugged. "My dad and his friends seemed like they were pretty powerful when given the right incentive. They became animagi during school, too, so they could keep Remus company and help him when he transformed. They just never bothered to put their talent towards their studies. Except for Remus."

Draco was still gaping at him. "Animagi?" He asked weakly. Harry nodded. "Unregistered, of course. Sirius was a big, black dog, kind of like the Grim. I kept seeing him during third year, and it made me think I was going to die soon. My dad was a stag, which is probably why that's my Patronus, and why a reindeer is my animagus. And Wormtail..." Harry couldn't stop his face from grimacing. "He was a rat. Ron's rat actually, for about thirteen years while he was in hiding. That's how he escaped when Sirius went after him."

Draco looked like he was having an information overload. Harry, on the other hand, was finding that telling the blond all these secrets festering inside him was quite cathartic.

"You know that Sirius was innocent. Wormtail was the one who betrayed my parents and killed all those muggles, which is why Sirius tried to kill him. Unfortunately, he escaped down the sewers as a rat and somehow survived long enough to help Voldemort return. Right under our noses, even."

They were still standing in the middle of the hallway. Harry touched Draco's arm. "Draco? Are you alright?" Draco stared at him blankly. "Why doesn't the rest of the world know any of this?" He asked bluntly.

Harry shrugged. "Doesn't help now, does it? All of them are dead. It doesn't matter anymore." Harry looked away, tracing the cracks in the stone walls with his eyes. Draco stepped closer.

"Of course it matters. Do you want your godfather to be forever remembered as a mass murderer? I know the Ministry admitted he was innocent, but they never told us what actually happened. Thirteen years of thinking of him as a killer is not so easily changed, especially when the truth remains mostly hidden. The name Sirius Black will always have negative connotations, otherwise. Don't you want to fix that?" Draco demanded.

Harry shrugged again. "How? You said yourself that thirteen years' thoughts are not easily reversed. What could I possibly do?"

Draco bit his lip. Harry's eyes were drawn by the gesture, and he flushed and looked away. Luckily, Draco was too preoccupied to notice. "You could..." he trailed off, thinking hard. Then, his face lit up. "I know! You could write a book!"

"A book?" Harry repeated skeptically. "First off, I can't write. Second, why would I write a book?" Draco waved his hand dismissively. "That is no matter; you can always have someone write it for you. I'm sure authors would line up for the opportunity to write about famous Harry Potter's grand adventures. And why not write a book? Everyone would read it, maybe multiple times. It would be a bestseller! And imagine, if you wrote about everything you just told me, everyone would know and remember. I promise it would work."

Harry was still unsure. He didn't really want people obsessing over his life again or knowing so much private information about him. They already interfered far too much for his liking. He just wanted to be normal. Writing a book about his life would be certain to deny him any sort of normalcy for the rest of his life.

"I don't know..." he said uncertainty. "I'll think about it." That seemed to placate Draco, and they resumed walking. Out of nowhere, Draco asked, "How did they do it? Become animagi, I mean."

Harry shrugged. "I don't know, and I never really thought to ask. It took them a lot of work, obviously. Several years, in fact. But they were determined, and they had a good reason, so they kept at it and eventually figured it out. They didn't tell anyone, though I suspect Dumbledore always knew." Draco didn't look satisfied with this answer, but he didn't ask any more questions, either. With the help of the map, which Draco still occasionally glanced at, they made it back to the common room without incident.

It was only after both boys had settled down in their beds that Harry realized Draco had never told him why he was wandering the castle in the middle of the night.


	19. Chapter 18

Draco waited a whole week after that night to go out again. He didn't want Harry to figure out what he was up to, and only cautious deflection had allowed him to keep it a secret. Draco was careful to choose a night where it seemed like Harry was sleeping peacefully.

He lay in bed, listening intently for his dorm mates' breathing. Hearing nothing out of the ordinary, he got up quietly and slipped out of the room, making sure to leave his curtains closed. He cautiously made his way through the common room and out into the dungeons. Once out, he hurried through the drafty corridors, up the stairs, and quickly slipped out of the doors of the castle. Strictly speaking, he was within his rights to wander about, even this late, but it would not be good for him and his secret endeavors if anyone found him. They would be quick to accuse him of hatching a plot to let the remaining Death Eaters into the school. Again.

At least he could honestly say that was not his intention this time.

Draco hurried towards the Forbidden Forest, which was still, as its name suggested, off-limits to all students. But as long as no one saw him, it was fine.

He slipped between the trees and journeyed far enough into the forest that no one could immediately spot him from the edge. He stopped when he reached his favorite clearing.

Draco scanned the trees and stepped forward when he found the one with the convoluted knot in the bark. He approached it and groped around inside the tree for the book he knew rested inside. His fingers brushed leather, then he hauled the heavy tome out and nearly dropped it on his foot. Cursing, he lay it gently on the ground and flipped the pages until he found the right one.

Step 3: Partial Transformation, it read. Draco took a deep breath. He had completed the past two steps with ease. Step 1 had asked him to complete a series of complicated transfigurations to prepare his magic for his own transformation. Step 2 had simply involved visualizing his form, and the animagus potion had made that very easy. Now, he was going to attempt Step 3.

Visualize your animagus form, the instructions read. Allow it to fill your mind until you think of nothing else.

Draco sat on the ground. His father would have shuddered in disgust at the twigs and the dirt that lay on the forest floor, but Draco no longer cared about such trivial matters. He closed his eyes, employing his occlumency training to clear his mind with incredible speed. It was paramount that he only think of his form in this step, otherwise, he may turn into an element of one of his wayward thoughts.

Once his mind was blissfully blank, he recalled his dragon form. Though small and short-lived, Draco had loved being a dragon. He felt so free and so powerful - like nothing was out of his reach. He smiled as the elegant creature filled his mind. But this was only the easy part. This is what he had done in Step 2. Now, it was time to go further. He opened his eyes to read the next bit.

Focus on one particular feature of your form. For your first attempt, you must pick something that the animal has in common with humans. Do not attempt to grow limbs such as wings, tails, extra arms/legs/heads, etc. You must only pick something to change. Smaller, less obtrusive changes will be easier than larger, grander ones.

Draco sighed. He kind of wanted to try growing wings. But he wasn't some reckless Gryffindor with a blatant disregard for instructions. Maybe he would try talons. He closed his eyes again and allowed his mind to zoom in on the talons. They were black, wicked, and menacingly sharp. He grinned in excitement, and his eyes fell on the book once more.

Envision the change. Imagine the human limb morphing to form its creature counterpart.

He did. He visualized the finger curving, becoming sharper and black. The skin smoothed over and turned shiny and hard. He felt a strange prickling in his right index finger, and a wave of excitement washed over him. He opened his eyes to find that his finger had indeed become a talon.

Draco allowed himself a moment to celebrate. This wasn't so hard. Undoubtedly, Harry's father and his friends had found it more difficult because of the transfiguration in the beginning. And maybe because they were younger when they attempted it, they had trouble with focusing. Draco didn't want to think about the possibility that maybe he had only done all the easy bits, and the worst was yet to come.

He cast a quick Tempus and discovered that he had been outside for nearly an hour and a half. He scanned the book for how to rid himself of the talon. Squeezing his eyes shut, he visualized the change in reverse and sighed in relief at his now human finger. Then, he quickly closed the book, stashing it in the tree once more. He hurried back up to the castle, moving with haste so he wouldn't accidentally run into Harry again. Though with that blasted map, if Harry was awake, he would have already seen him.

Draco muttered the new password (simul fortes) and slipped into the common room. Thankfully, he made it to his dorm and into bed without incident.

————————————————————————

Draco was far too impatient to wait another week, however. He managed only two nights before he felt an urge to progress to the next step. He was eager to complete the final transformation and to put his animagus form to good use. Ever since that day in potions, he had felt an insatiable desire to achieve the transformation, to finally know that no matter what else happened, he could be free as a dragon. It would be worth it, sod the sleepless nights.

At nearly two in the morning, he slipped out once more. He was being reckless, but he no longer cared. Draco wanted this like nothing ever before.

He nearly sprinted to the forest, but his patrician upbringing simply would not allow something as undignified as running. He speedwalked. Gracefully, of course.

He weaved through the trees. A branch snapped somewhere close by, but Draco didn't even twitch. He had heard much more ominous things in these woods.

He reached into the tree, searching for the heavy book. He hauled it out enthusiastically and subsequently plopped onto the ground. He flipped the pages so fast that one of them ripped, causing him to wince. Draco was suddenly incredibly glad this wasn't a library book. Madam Pince would have his head.

Step 4: Simultaneous Partial Transformation

They really needed more creative names for their process, Draco mused. Still, as he scanned the text, he surmised that this step really just involved doing everything he had done two nights ago, except now with more than just one finger. Draco liked that the process of transformation was cumulative. At least everything he was learning was being put to use.

This was much harder than Step 3, Draco found. It was incredibly difficult to imagine various parts of his body changing at the same time, in detail. He could do one or the other, but never both. He always focused too hard on one part, or couldn't quite visualize the intricate details. Draco needed to focus, to quell his excitement, and reach a state of detached determination.

Perhaps a bit of meditation might help?

Draco closed his eyes. He imagined packing all his wayward thoughts into discrete boxes, either shelving them into his mental library or throwing them in the rubbish to be forever forgotten. The metaphorical pile of boxes grew smaller as he methodically worked inside his mind until his brain was as empty as possible. The occasional thought still drifted across, but instead of fighting it, Draco acknowledged it, then put it into a new box.

He smiled, feeling content and at peace. The imagery had always helped to calm him when his "brain was full," as Pansy crudely called it. It allowed him to sort through the mess, clearing his mind for once. The technique had been invaluable when the Dark Lord had taken up residence in his house. It somehow allowed him to get around the paradox of trying not to think about something, only to have it inevitably crop up at the most inopportune moment. If he shelved it away, it wouldn't bother him again.

Draco decided to attempt the step again. Now that his brain had more room, he found it far easier to imagine all the details at once. Fortunately, or unfortunately, one might say, the newfound alertness made it impossible not to notice the rather loud breathing that had started somewhere to his left.

Resisting the mounting urge to sigh in exasperation, he spoke, eyes still closed. "Do you intend to stalk me until the end of time, Harry? I don't mind, only your panting is making it rather difficult to concentrate."

The breathing stopped for a moment before Draco heard a whooshing sound that he took to be Harry whipping off his cloak. Draco opened his eyes, smirking in triumph, and turned to see the Gryffindor looking very sheepish and slightly miffed.

"I thought I was being quiet." Harry insisted. "You didn't notice when I stepped on that branch earlier. Bloody forest." Draco rolled his eyes. "Yes, Harry, but there are quite a lot of things in this forest that could have stepped on that branch. They are far fewer things here that are invisible. And only one that would risk coming so close to a wizard just to sit there and breathe."

Harry huffed in annoyance. His eyes landed on the book. "Really, Draco? Transformation Magick for the Transfiguration Master? You hardly qualify as a Transfiguration Master." Draco scowled at him.

Harry craned his neck further to see what was written on the page. "Step 4: Simultaneous Partial Transformation," he read aloud. "Once you have managed a partial animagus transformation, you will begin to transform multiple limbs at once to begin to acclimate your body to the sensation of transformation, and your mind to the complexities and focus required of a full transformation. By the time you have completed this step, you-" Draco reached for the book and slammed it shut before he could read anymore. He didn't really mind if the other boy knew what he was doing; he just wanted to be petty. Harry's eyes found his, and Draco didn't even try to avoid them.

"Animagus?" Harry asked. Draco nodded sharply. "Why? I mean, you could do this after school, why waste your nights on this now-?"

Draco sighed but didn't answer. He would be damned if Harry could get that information out of him that easily. The black-haired boy scooted closer, unperturbed.

"And why in the forest in the middle of the night? If you talk to McGonagall, I'm sure she would let you attempt it. Supervised, of course, but she might help you. You wouldn't have to do it alone, or stay up so late you look like death itself in the mornings." Harry was unrelenting.

"I don't want McGonagall to know," Draco said shortly. Harry cocked his head to the side. "Why not? It would be easier and safer. Not to mention legal."

"You're one to talk," Draco snapped at him. "Since when do you ever take the safe, easy, non-rule-breaking route?"

Harry looked terribly sad all of a sudden. "Since I realized that my way often gets other people hurt or killed. But," Harry looked smug now, though the depression still lingered, "one might say that this is quite Gryffindorish of you. Dangerous, downright difficult, and quite frankly, illegal."

Draco studied him for a moment. "And one might say you're being quite Slytherin right now. Manipulating me, so I'll do what you want. You should know," Draco leaned in closer to murmur in Harry's ear, "you can't manipulate the master manipulator. That's why I'm the prince of Slytherin, and you're Gryffindor's Golden Boy, Harry." Draco didn't miss the way the boy's breath hitched as he whispered.

He pulled back, watching Harry intently. "Someday, you're going to tell me what it is with me whispering your name that makes you blush so magnificently." Right on cue, Harry's face reddened. The brunet shook his head. "Never," he insisted. Draco smirked. "Is that a challenge, Potter?"

Harry watched him warily, but something else flickered in his eyes at the question. "Only if you want it to be, Malfoy." He said lowly, evenly.

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "I truly love it when you go all Slytherin on me, Harry. But-" the blond leaned closer again. This time, his lips brushed Harry's lobe as he spoke. "-what did we say about calling me Malfoy?" Draco felt rather than saw the shudder that went through Harry's body as he was reminded of the broom closet incident. The other boy's breaths were coming quicker now.

Draco leaned back and was pleased to see Harry very flushed, pupils dilated, and mouth slightly parted. Draco's eyes fell on the red lips and the hint of the hot mouth that lay beyond them.

"Draco, I..." Harry seemed disinclined to finish his thought. He, too, was staring at Draco's mouth, and Draco felt a little shiver of excitement race up his spine.

"You what?" Draco prodded.

"I-" Harry looked like he was struggling with something. "I-"

"Yes?" Draco nearly purred. He was aware he was being a little shit, but he also really didn't care. 

"I...oh sod it. Fuck space." Harry nearly growled, then surged forwards. His lips crashed into Draco's, and suddenly Draco found himself kissing Harry Potter for the second time ever.

And he sincerely hoped it would not be the last.

———————————————————----

Harry was not stalking Draco. Arguably, he had never stalked the blond boy. He was just...keeping an eye on him. Keeping an eye out for him, now that they were friends. You know, making sure Draco didn't run into any trouble. Like any good, non-stalker friend would do.

Who was he kidding? Certainly not himself, nor Ron, definitely not Hermione, and he was pretty sure the entire school knew he was obsessed.

"Do you intend to stalk me until the end of time, Harry? I don't mind, only your panting is making it rather difficult to concentrate," drawled the boy in question.

Well damn. Clearly, he wasn't fooling Draco either. He pulled off his cloak. The thing was becoming less and less useful by the day. Technically, he no longer had to sneak around, and if the Slytherin could tell when he was nearby, when else did Harry need it?

"I thought I was being quiet. You didn't notice when I stepped on that branch earlier. Bloody forest." Harry grumbled. Draco rolled his eyes at him, like usual. "Yes, Harry, but there are quite a lot of things in this forest that could have stepped on that branch. There are far fewer things in here that are invisible. And only one that would risk coming so close to a wizard just to sit there and breathe." Harry resisted the urge to scowl at Draco. Sod him for being so logical.

Harry turned his attention towards the book that lay open in front of Draco. He recognized it easily. Hermione had spent far too long with her nose stuck in the leather cover, insisting it would be the best source from which to learn theoretical human transfiguration. "Really, Draco? Transformation Magick for the Transfiguration Master? You hardly qualify as a Transfiguration Master." It was the blond's turn to scowl. Hermione wasn't exactly a Master either, but she was certainly smart enough to try.

Harry leaned over to read the page aloud. Clearly, it was a step in the process of becoming an animagus. Not that Harry was familiar with it in any capacity. Draco slammed the book shut before he could read the entire page.

He looked up at Draco. "Animagus?" He asked to confirm. Draco nodded, looking slightly pissed. "Why? I mean, you could do this after school, why waste your nights on this now-?" Harry asked, confused as to why in Merlin's name this warranted such a significant loss of sleep. Especially considering how tired the boy looked. Dark bags lingered under his eyes, and he looked utterly exhausted.

Seeing that he wasn't going to answer, Harry moved closer. "And why in the forest in the middle of the night? If you talk to McGonagall, I'm sure she would let you attempt it. Supervised, of course, but she might help you. You wouldn't have to do it alone, or stay up so late you look like death itself in the mornings." Harry pried. He would never admit it, but he hated seeing Draco so clearly unhealthy. It felt wrong - like there was something fundamentally incorrect in the universe if Draco didn't look one hundred percent perfect.

"I don't want McGonagall to know," Draco answered him shortly. Harry canted his head to the side. "Why not? It would be easier and safer. Not to mention legal." It struck Harry as intriguing how unlike normal the blond was being.

"You're one to talk," Draco snapped at him. "Since when do you ever take the safe, easy, non-rule-breaking route?"

Harry felt sadness creep up on him as he remembered where that strategy had got him. "Since I realized that my way often gets other people hurt or killed. But," Harry shook off his momentary depression, now feeling quite smug and very amused as he came to a realization, "one might say that this is quite Gryffindorish of you. Dangerous, downright difficult, and quite frankly, illegal."

Draco stared at him for a moment. "And one might say you're being quite Slytherin right now. Manipulating me, so I'll do what you want. You should know," Draco leaned in closer to murmur in Harry's ear, "you can't manipulate the master manipulator. That's why I'm the prince of Slytherin, and you're Gryffindor's Golden Boy, Harry." Harry felt his eyes grow wide, and his breath hitched at Draco's proximity, as well as the onset of memories prompted by his whispered name.

The other boy pulled back, watching Harry intently. "Someday, you're going to tell me what it is with me whispering your name that makes you blush." Right on cue, all the blood rushed directly to his face, though some diverted in a more southern direction. Harry shook his head, emphatically. There was no way he would ever reveal his erotic dream to Draco, especially considering it happened before they had ever kissed. "Never," he insisted. Draco smirked. "Is that a challenge, Potter?"

Harry watched the blond warily, but something far more intense stirred inside his body at the innocent question. "Only if you want it to be, Malfoy." He returned, holding his breath in anticipation.

Draco let out a bark of laughter. "I love it when you go all Slytherin on me, Harry. But-" the other boy leaned closer again. This time, his lips brushed Harry's ear as he spoke, and Harry shivered at the new, feather-light sensation. "-what did we say about calling me Malfoy?" An involuntary shiver clawed its way through Harry's body as he was reminded of the broom closet from over a week ago. He could only pray Draco didn't notice.

Draco mercifully leaned back, and Harry was treated to the wonderful sight of a flushed Draco. His eyes were locked on Harry's mouth, and he could feel another shiver race up his spine.

"Draco, I-" Harry didn't know how to finish that, or why he had started in the first place. Harry, not unwillingly, felt his eyes drawn to Draco's lips and stared at the perfection of them. He recalled, very vividly, how soft they had felt against his own.

"You what?" Draco prodded.

"I-" Harry couldn't think. What did he want to say? What had he been thinking about? How exactly did the English language work again? "I-"

"Yes?" Draco asked smoothly. With great difficulty, Harry collected his thoughts into a string of words that could be interpreted as a somewhat coherent explanation and forced them out of his mouth.

"I...oh sod it. Fuck space." Harry couldn't wait a moment longer. His tipped forwards, and his lips crashed into Draco's, and suddenly Harry found himself kissing Draco Malfoy for the second time ever. Third, if you counted his dream.

Their lips moved in sync, hungry and insatiable. Harry wondered, with increasing awe, why had he wasted a second not kissing Draco when it was so obviously what he had been made to do? He wound a hand into the hair at the nape of Draco's neck, the other pushing against the ground to support his weight.

Draco made a small noise, and suddenly Harry found himself incapable of thinking. He pulled the blond closer to him with the hand on his neck, reveling in Draco's intoxicating taste. Suddenly, the other boy pulled back.

Harry stared at him, uncomprehending. Was something wrong? Why wasn't Draco kissing him anymore? Oh god, had he misinterpreted every interaction with him ever? How could he possibly misinterpret a kiss? Or Draco's blatant arousal at their last intimate encounter? Maybe Draco thought he was a blushing virgin and didn't want to deal with that. Or maybe he really was an awful kisser, and that's why Cho broke up with him, and why Ginny suddenly found that she was a lesbian-

Draco gently removed his glasses from his face. Clearly, his expression must have given away at least some of his panic, because Draco added, "they were hurting my cheekbones. I would like to enjoy kissing you, not be in constant fear that you'll gouge my eyes out." Draco grinned at him. Harry rolled his eyes, trying to disguise his relief and probably failing. He smiled too.

"Then come here, you prat, so you can properly enjoy it this time." Draco's eyes lit up, and he did exactly that.


	20. Chapter 19

Their second kiss was even better. Their third was by far the best. And their fourth made Draco rethink his previous sentiment.

"Harry," Draco murmured into the other boy's mouth. Their fifth kiss was chaste, sweet even. They were taking the time to just explore and feel, to experience but not get lost in the sensations.

"Yes?" Harry asked, sounding very uninterested in holding a conversation. Not that Draco wanted to either, after knowing what that mouth was capable of.

Harry broke the kiss, pulling away to reveal very red, swollen lips and eyes dark with lust. Draco couldn't resist stealing one more kiss.

But that one turned heated very fast, tongues tangling and fighting, moving against each other in tandem. Harry tugged at Draco's hair very suddenly, eliciting a gasp and allowing the brunet to take control. He dove in, exploring every inch of Draco's hot mouth hungrily.

Only moments later, they broke apart again, both panting and flushed with pleasure.

"Draco," Harry said, very throaty and rough. The sound shot straight to Draco's crotch, and he had to hold back a groan. Harry leaned closer again, but this time his mouth found a new target. When he felt the heat of Harry's tongue searing his neck, Draco really did moan. Encouraged by the noise, Harry continued his assault rather vigorously.

Licking and sucking and biting his way down Draco's neck, Harry made sure to linger in all the most tortuous places, then retraced his path back up the pale stretch of skin. By the time he got to Draco's jaw, Draco was extremely aroused, almost painfully so.

"Harry," he insisted, firmer this time. Harry pulled back, a confused expression on his otherwise sinfully sexy face. He looked thoroughly debauched, and Draco delighted in wondering what he would look like post-sex.

"Is something wrong?" Worry was evident on the Gryffindor's face. Even after so long, and so much, he still wore his heart on his sleeve.

Draco smiled reassuringly. "No, of course not. But..." he hesitated, "I don't think we should go any further."

"Why not?" Hurt flitted across Harry's face, and Draco wanted to hug him and tell him, or rather show him, exactly how much he desperately wanted this to continue.

"Because," he said gently, "I want to take this slow. You're not some little fling or passing dalliance. I want to prove to you how much this means to me. I'm not in it for the sex."

Harry smiled briefly, warmly, but then gave him a searching look. "And you're sure this has nothing to do with our last encounter? Because I told you, I sorted myself out. I'm prepared now."

Draco sighed. "I know, Harry. But, I never want you to feel pressured into doing something before you're comfortable doing it. I don't want to see you run away from me again." He frowned, looking at the ground. He hated that he had caused the brunet distress, and silently vowed to do everything in his power to ensure it never happened again.

Harry narrowed his eyes. "I'm not scared." He stated firmly. Draco began to shake his head. "No, I didn't mean to imply you were, I just-"

"Didn't want to scare me off?" Harry asked bitingly, irritation bleeding through. Draco shook his head more emphatically. The boy was beginning to try his patience, which he did not have a lot of to begin with. "No, Harry, I-"

"You what?" Harry sounded angrier and angrier by the minute.

"I just wanted to protect you, Potter!" Draco exploded. "Merlin's sake, you make it so damn difficult! I get that you're our indomitable savior, the Boy Who Lived to Help Us All, but can't you let others take care of you for a change? I don't think you're a ninny or a child for being inexperienced! Salazar, everyone with half a brain would realize you never had a moment to yourself to think, let alone gallivant about shagging everyone in sight. For once, Harry, I don't want you to have to rush about like your life is going to end the next day! The Dark Lord is gone, you did your duty, and now you can relax and enjoy life! You took care of the entire Wizarding World, can't you let me take care of you, just in this regard?"

Draco was out of breath and panting by the time he finished his tirade. "And really," he added, a bit calmer now, "is it so hard to believe I actually do want to take this slow and prove my feelings for you?"

Harry was frozen. He didn't say anything, only blinked at Draco for a couple of seconds, then stared at the ground. Just when Draco thought he might have gone too far, Harry, gazing up at him from under his eyelashes, biting his lip, asked softly, "Do you truly mean that?"

Draco gave a sarcastic laugh, which nearly turned into a sob. "You'll have to be more specific, Harry. Did I mean the part about you being difficult? Absolutely. Did I mean the part about wanting you to be able to relax? Of course. Did I mean the part about wanting to take care of you? However embarrassing it is for me to admit, yes, I did. Did I mean-"

Harry leaned over and covered his mouth with his hand, silencing him. "Did you mean the part about having feelings for me?" He asked breathlessly. Draco wanted to die because Merlin was this boy insufferably dense.

"Ouch!" Harry yelped, yanking his hand back quickly. "Did you just bite me?" He asked incredulously. Draco stared him down. "Yes, and it was well deserved. Do you really, honestly think I would kiss you, let alone say all the ridiculously soppy things that just came out of my mouth, risking everything of what's left of my already greatly diminished reputation, if I didn't feel something for you? Merlin, Harry, you are an idiot."

Harry ignored the last bit. Draco wondered if he had selective hearing. The black-haired boy averted his eyes shyly, saying, "I thought you might just be physically attracted to me."

Draco could not believe what he was hearing. "First, how shallow do you think I am? Second, how desperate do you think I am? And third, how much of an idiot do you think you are?"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You are, or were, pretty shallow, Draco. Though you're right, you're too beautiful to be desperate. I bet the girls all line up for a chance with you. And I thought we established I am a massive idiot?"

Draco blushed at the compliment but groaned. "I can't deal with this now, or quite frankly, ever. Why, Merlin, why did I have to be attracted to someone so incredibly stupid?" Harry laughed at that.

"Come on, you great big ponce, it's quite late. McGonagall will have kittens if we're late for Transfiguration tomorrow." Harry insisted, rising to his feet and pulling Draco up with him. "You can work on your little project over the weekend. I'll come to help you."

"Distract me, more likely," Draco muttered, and Harry smirked before giving him a heated kiss that set his entire body on fire, only proving his point. Draco groaned into Harry's mouth, then found himself bereft as a laughing Harry disappeared into thin air. "Nothing wrong with a bit of snogging, Draco," came the smooth voice from somewhere to his left.

"Bloody fucking cloak," he muttered. Louder, in case Harry had gone ahead, he said, "You're a fucking insufferable tease, Harry. I hope you know that. I'm going to make you pay for it someday." He warned.

Warm hands slid around his waist, and he gasped in surprise. "I look forward to it," Harry murmured from behind in his left ear, before slipping away once more. Draco growled but resigned himself to walking up to the castle with an uncomfortable hard-on. "Insufferable prat," he muttered to himself.

Quite unfortunately for him, he shared a dorm with Harry Potter. The reason why Draco had a raging erection in the first place. He couldn't very bloody well wank while the object of his fantasies was listening. Or he could, but that wouldn't be taking it slow. And he really was serious about everything he had told Harry in the forest. Draco wouldn't have said it otherwise.

He could do it in the bathroom.

There was an idea. If he didn't take too long, it wouldn't be suspicious at all. Then again, he could use a good, long wank. Purely for de-stressing purposes, of course.

A silencing charm, then?

That was his best bet, Draco decided. As long as he did it carefully, no one would be the wiser. He groped around his bedside table for his wand, then pointed it at his closed drapes, muttering "Silencio." He opened his mouth, paused, feeling slightly ridiculous, and then yelled.

No one came busting in to save him, so he assumed everything was fine. There was no need for any other privacy charms, considering everyone else was asleep.

He lay down on his back, squirming to get comfortable. Casting one more glance at his curtains, he hesitated, then slowly reached down and pushed his pajamas off.

He was still semi-hard; the long walk had caused his erection to wilt a bit. But however much he willed it away, the memories of making out with Harry kept on surfacing, and he would get hard all over again. There was nothing else for it. He would have to wank if he wanted to sleep.

Not that Draco was complaining all that much.

He reached down, wrapping his hand around his dick. A couple of firm tugs had him fully hard again, and he increased the pace of his hand with fervor. He thought of Harry, leaning in to kiss him, soft lips and wicked tongue caressing his mouth and neck. Draco groaned softly. His other hand twisted in the sheets, tugging just for the sake of holding on to something. His heels dug into the mattress, his back arched, and he gasped with every breath. Draco squeezed his eyes shut. Harry's lips on his neck, Harry's hands on his body, Harry's tongue in his mouth, Harry's eyes locked on his-

He shuddered, his cock pulsing as he came hard, stars exploding behind his eyelids. Draco's hand kept pulling through his orgasm, only stopping when it became too much for his sensitive skin. He exhaled heavily.

After a moment of recovery, Draco reached for his wand and vanished the mess. He pulled his pajamas back on from where they clung to his thighs. It didn't take long for him to drift off into sleep.

————————————————————————

The next morning, Draco made his way down to breakfast as usual. The Great Hall was nearly full, close to its peak capacity. As he sat down next to Pansy, his eyes immediately sought out the boy at the Gryffindor table, who was predictably not there. It would be a miracle if the messy git ever managed to show up on time. His daily Potter-check-in done for the morning, he turned back to his plate and began filling it up.

Halfway through his meal, the famous trio finally showed up, Weasley immediately heading for the food while Granger trailed behind with a look of infinite patience. Harry, on the other hand, sat down and immediately turned his eyes towards Draco. He seemed surprised when they locked gazes, but promptly offered a warm smile, which Draco gladly returned.

They had arrived just in time, too, because the mail owls suddenly swarmed into the Great Hall. Usually, Draco watched in amusement as owl after owl tried to drop a letter onto Harry, only to have the envelopes disappear when they got within five feet of him. Flitwick had wrought a tricky charm to repel all mail that came from an unknown sender, and Draco loved to watch the owl's helpless antics and their outraged shrieks when they realized their jobs weren't complete. Today, he was so busy watching that he almost didn't notice the letter that dropped in front of him.

Recognizing the owl winging away through the window, he felt his heart skip a beat. He was in trouble.

Draco lowered his eyes to the letter sitting innocently by his plate, the Malfoy family seal plainly visible. With shaking hands, he opened the letter. He could only be glad it wasn't a flaming red howler. His mother was too classy for that.

Dear Draco,

My beloved son, I hope you are doing well. You must be very busy if you cannot spare the time to send me a letter informing me of your well-being.

Draco gulped. She was mad that much was obvious.

I heard from Miss Parkinson that you have befriended Harry Potter. I am pleased. We owe much to him and his kindness. Treat him well, for it is the least he deserves. When you see him next, please relay my gratitude, and the additional note I have enclosed. Yes, Draco, you may read it if you must, though I'd rather prefer you didn't, at least not until he has had a chance to see it.

Draco looked inside the envelope and saw that there was indeed another piece of parchment. He resisted the temptation to sneak a peek at it, out of respect for his mother.

Please write back soon, my love. You know how I worry. Please tell me you have listened to what I told you at the beginning of the year. Your happiness is all I wish for anymore.

With love,  
Mother

Draco felt shame rise up in him. How selfish he had been, to ignore his mother's entirely reasonable request for him to write once a week. There was no excuse for his lapse in thought. With that in mind, he hurried to the library to write a response the moment he finished eating.

Plonking his bag onto an empty table - the table - he fished out a quill and some spare parchment. Dipping the tip into his Everlasting Ink, he hesitated before beginning.

Mother, he wrote.

I sincerely apologize for not writing sooner. I know you will not like to hear it, but a great many things have come up. Still, I should not have waited so long to write to you.

What Pansy told you is true, Harry and I have indeed become friends. It has not been easy by any means, but it is not something I intend to give up on without a fight. He has been good to me, far better than I could ever expect or deserve.

He paused there, quill suspended in the air, ink dripping gently. Maybe he should find Harry, so he could tell his mother what his reaction was to the note. He also wondered if he should tell her about their involvement with each other, and desperately wanted Harry's opinion on the matter. Decided, he resolved to find the boy as soon as they finished Charms class.

Since lessons were starting in ten minutes, he stuffed the letter into his bag and hurried off to Flitwick's classroom.


	21. Chapter 20

Their Charms class went by exceedingly slowly. Flitwick was trying to teach them Charm theory, which was highly complex and challenging to master. Draco understood why it might help improve their casting - knowing why something worked always helped him do it better - but a small part of him also thought that waving their wands wildly around without having a clue as to what that did had never yet failed them.

Draco spent class staring blankly out the window, the grey sky dulling his mood and making him feel drained. Flitwick's squeaky voice washed over him, but the information did not make its way into his brain. No matter, he could easily ask for Pansy's notes or conduct his own research into the subject. Draco had always found lectures unendurable - why would teachers waste time droning on about a topic when experience was the best teacher? In any case, he spent the morning scanning the treetops of the Forbidden Forest with a leisurely gaze, sometimes spotting a flash of movement or a winged creature flying above the trees. At some point, he realized that the leaves - still a vibrant green, as they somehow were all year round - were the exact shade of Harry's eyes. And that just reminded him of the dazed, yet hungry look in the boy's eyes as he had leaned in to kiss him, caressing Draco's lips with his-

He shook himself. He refused to get aroused during class; it would only make things awkward and uncomfortable. Draco suffered through the rest of the lesson; suddenly, everything seemed unbearably dull, and he longed to talk to Harry and give him his mother's letter. He desperately wanted to see the Gryffindor, wondered if there was a chance last night's events had been a fluke, despised the possibility that the brunet had merely been toying with him. Draco knew that he was exceedingly, impossibly lucky that Harry had ever deigned to give him the time of day. It was a privilege he would not squander.

Suddenly, he was brought out of his daze by chattering as students around him began to pack away their things. Draco blinked, not quite able to believe that he had missed their dismissal after eagerly awaiting it for so long. He sprang into action, shoving his unused quill and blank parchment into his bag, hurrying over to where Harry was talking to his friends. Ron saw him coming and must have mentioned it to Harry because the other boy turned around before he had reached them.

"Harry," Draco greeted him. His eyes slid over the witch and wizard beside him. "Granger, Weasley," he added cordially. Then he turned back to Harry. "Could I borrow you for a moment? I need to talk to you about something." Harry glanced at his friends as if asking permission. Granger looked faintly amused and knowing, while Weasley rolled his eyes. The brunet turned back to him and nodded, waiting quietly with Draco as everyone else filed out of the room. When the place was empty, Draco opened his mouth to speak, but Harry beat him to it.

"What is it, Draco? Is something wrong? Is this...is this about last night?" Harry looked worried, biting his lip endearingly. Draco took a breath and opened his mouth again, but Harry interrupted him once more. "Please don't tell me you regret it. I knew this wouldn't end well." He said despairingly, tugging his fingers through his tousled hair and beginning to pace. Draco watched with his mouth slightly agape.

"Well, I didn't regret it. I thought we went over this last night? I have feelings for you, Harry. But if you already think we don't have a chance, I suppose there's no point in trying, is there?" he cried frustratedly. It would be just his luck to have a taste of the boy he fancied, only to have him cruelly ripped away the next day. Draco spun around, intent on stalking out of the room and finding somewhere to break down. He quickly ran through a list in his mind. Dorm? No, the others could come in at any time. Library? Too public. Room of Requirement? Too many memories... Maybe he could find a deserted alcove somewhere.

But Draco knew, he just knew that he could never escape that easily. It wasn't in Harry's nature to just let him go. It was why the incident in their sixth year had occurred in the first place. And that was why, when he felt the hand grab his wrist, Draco only sighed with resignation.

"I'm sorry, Draco, I shouldn't have jumped to conclusions. I didn't regret it either. It's only that...well, whenever I find someone that makes me happy, it never works out." Harry moved closer, his chest brushing against Draco's back. "Sirius was the only chance I had at a father-figure, and I only knew him for two years, most of which we spent apart. Then Cho and Gin, neither of them worked out. I'm always waiting for the moment when Hermione and Ron will have to leave me too. I used to think they would go because I always put them in danger, now I think it will be when they finally get married and move into a place of their own. They'll start a family, and I'll never be fully a part of it. I'm just...I've learned to not hope for anything, to always expect the worst, because then I'll never be disappointed." Harry tugged Draco's hand, pulling him around, so they were facing each other, eyes immediately connecting.

"I never expected that you could ever like me back. Especially with our history...I'm always waiting for it to all come crashing down. If I don't hope for anything better, then I won't be as devastated when it happens..." Harry looked pleadingly at Draco, and Draco grew increasingly dismayed by the boy's outlook on life with every word he uttered. Even Draco, renowned in Slytherin house and among the eighth years for his negativity, was not as gloomy and cynical as the Golden Boy. And that disturbed him. Harry was so bright, a beacon of light for every witch and wizard. He was their pillar of strength, the Wizarding World's only hope, and the reason they were still alive. Harry was unfailingly optimistic, even in the face of certain death. Draco wanted to resurrect the Dark Lord and eviscerate him himself for forcing the Chosen One to grow up too fast. They were still kids, and it felt unnatural that Harry was already far more pessimistic than most adults.

He didn't have to hesitate. He just pulled Harry into a tight hug. Tilting his head down to whisper in his ear, Draco told him softly, "Harry, the only one who should have to worry about this is me. I have nothing to lose and everything to gain. But for you, Harry, it's the opposite. No one will ever accept this; you will always face criticism for being with me. I will never stop wanting you, do not underestimate me in that. As long as you want me, I'll be here. I cannot comprehend how you could ever think this a good idea, but as long as you are experiencing this bout of insanity, I won't complain." He pulled back to gaze at Harry, eyes flickering between his astonishingly green ones. Harry rolled his eyes and smiled at Draco, and that was enough to take his breath away.

"Since when have I ever listened to the public? If I did, I would spend half my life trying to please people, and I would never have defeated Voldemort. And I doubt I will ever grow tired of you, Draco if I haven't gotten any less obsessed with you in seven years." Harry took a deep breath. "How about- how about we make a deal?" He asked, licking his lips nervously. Draco tilted his head, raising his eyebrows in question, and avoiding going down the path staring at the brunet's mouth would lead to. Harry took this as a sign to continue. "Let's both agree to trust and believe each other. And, if either of us wants to...wants to stop this, we agree to tell the other immediately. Does that sound okay?" He rushed out, unsure. Draco smiled. The brunet was so endearing and adorable that his heart began to beat erratically. "Such a Gryffindor," he remarked affectionately. "Alright, I'll promise you that."

\---------------------------------------------------

Harry gave the tall blond an answering smile. He felt like a weight had been taken off his shoulders. Even though a promise, or at least a non-magical one, could easily be broken, Harry trusted Draco to be honorable, if nothing else.

Draco shook his head, an expression of exasperation on his face. "That's not even what I wanted to talk to you about," he protested. "I wanted to give you this." He pulled away from Harry, reaching for his bag and fishing around inside it. He emerged a few seconds later, triumphantly holding an opened envelope. Draco pulled out two pieces of parchment from inside, checking one briefly before handing the other to Harry. "It's from my mother," he clarified, catching Harry's questioning glance. Harry immediately opened the parchment, curiosity burning inside him. Why would Mrs. Malfoy write to him?

Dear Mr. Potter,

I hope you are doing well. First, let me give you my sincerest gratitude for saving us, both from the Dark Lord and from Azkaban. I cannot thank you enough for sparing my son from that cruel place. You should know I do not blame you for not defending my husband - he chose this path, and he knew the possible consequences.

Second, I have been informed of your recent friendship with my son, Draco. I must also thank you for this. You would have been within your rights to resent us, to resent him, but words are not enough to tell you how much I am glad you do not. If I may, I have a favor to ask of you.

Please, help him. Protect him. He will not tell me if he needs anything, the stubborn boy. He will hide things from me, so he doesn't cause me unnecessary worry. I ask that you watch over him because I am not there to do it. He has few friends and many enemies. You are respected and influential; I will be content to leave him in your care. He needs you, though he would never admit it. I hope I am not overstepping, but somehow I think you would do this even if I did not ask. Still, I would appreciate confirmation, if only for my peace of mind. Send your answer back with Draco. You may let him read this if you like. He is nosy, no matter how much I have taught him to respect others' privacy. I suppose that is Lucius' fault. It is entirely your decision.

Forever in your debt,

Narcissa Malfoy

"Wow, I think she wrote more to you than she did me," Draco said, surprise coloring his voice. He was craning his neck to see the letter. Harry hesitated. Should he let Draco see the letter...? He decided he would wait until Draco had sent a reply. That way, he would be sure to write what Harry wanted him to. With that in mind, Harry folded the letter again, ignoring Draco's annoyed look. "I assume you wanted to have my response?" Harry asked him, not giving away anything. Draco nodded, still miffed. The blond pulled out a half-written letter, smoothing it out on the desk.

"Tell her...tell your mother I said I would be glad to do as she asked and was planning to anyway," Harry said hesitantly. Draco shot him another probing look but wrote it down anyway. After he had penned a few sentences in his elegant script, he straightened up and started twirling his quill. Harry recognized it as a nervous gesture.

"So," Draco began, apprehensively meeting Harry's eyes, "I was wondering if I should tell Mother about- about us. If there is an us?" He asked, unsure. Harry resisted the urge to smile. "I would love for there to be an us if that's what you want," Harry assured him.

Draco sucked in a breath. "O-okay," he said unsteadily. Harry felt himself start to frown worriedly. "What? Would you rather not be together?" He asked, suddenly panicked. Draco stared at him. "Oh, for- Merlin, we just talked about this," he groaned. Then, he stepped closer, hands reaching up to cup Harry's cheeks. Suddenly, the blond kissed him, softly and sweetly. It only lasted a moment, but it left Harry breathless.

"I want to be with you," Draco said firmly. "Now, should I tell Mother, or would you rather wait?" He asked as if he didn't particularly care either way. Harry thought for a second.

"I think I'd rather tell your mom in person," Harry admitted. "She'll probably want to hear it directly from you, not in a letter," he added.

Draco nodded. "Let me just finish the letter then, and I'll send it off home. If I wait any longer, Mother will have my head."


	22. Chapter 21

They made their way to their next class, Transfiguration. They arrived on time, but only just barely, and McGonagall gave them a reproachful glance. Luckily, she was also pleased by the apparent 'friendship' between Draco and Harry and did not verbally reprimand them.

When they settled into the only empty seats, unfortunately not together, she cleared her throat and resumed the lesson. While intrigued, Harry found himself incapable of paying attention, especially since Draco sat within his line of sight. He unabashedly stared at the back of Draco's head. It was quite lovely, as far as heads go. The platinum blond strands of hair curled appealingly now that Draco wore them natural, and his neck was long and beautifully curved. Even his ear was somehow aristocratic. Harry wanted to trace it with his tongue.

He blinked. Where did that come from? Harry gave his head a tiny shake to clear of possibly dangerous thoughts, especially thoughts of biting, sucking, or licking Draco's neck like he so badly wanted to do.

Bad Harry.

Deciding that Draco-watching was likely to get him in serious trouble, he forcibly turned his attention towards McGonagall's thrilling lecture.

——————————————————

Draco slowly put his notebook into his bag, mind still on McGonagall's words. He understood the theory, but it was just so complicated that he doubted it was feasible. Remembering his failed attempts at becoming an animagus, he wondered if he could con the headmistress into giving him the answer to both questions by disguising it as an effort to understand her lecture.

Might as well give it a go. Draco stayed back after class, ignoring the questioning look from Harry. He waited until everyone else left, then approached McGonagall's desk. "Professor," he started, "I was wondering if I could ask for some clarification." She gave him a curious glance, then went back to her papers, but signaled for him to continue.

"I just don't get how we're meant to accomplish the Transfiguration. I understand the concept of it, but the execution seems nearly impossible with all the variables we have to keep track of. Is there something we could do to help improve our focus and multitasking abilities?"

She paused, thinking. "Hmm. Yes, you're quite right that this requires an exceptional ability to focus. You're already very good at that, Mr. Malfoy, I'm sure you can manage this level of it. Unless you wanted to try something more advanced...?" McGonagall asked shrewdly, raising one severe eyebrow.

Draco very nearly blushed, but his extensive control over his every bodily function prevented that, thank Merlin. He nodded, pretending like he was just another over-eager student who wanted to learn as much as they possibly could. Channeling his inner Granger, Draco straightened his already ramrod-straight back and said in an innocent voice, "Of course, professor, I would love to try something more complex. I think a task to challenge my focus would be very beneficial. Do you have any suggestions for me?"

The corners of McGonagall's lips nearly lifted into a smile. "Perhaps, Mr. Malfoy, but something tells me you already have a project in mind. Heaven knows there would be no way for me to stop you, so the only way I can make sure you don't get yourself killed is to offer my help. If it's focus you're after, I insist you retrieve this book from the library." She scribbled something on a sheet of parchment and handed it to Draco. "And please, Mr. Malfoy, if I could ask a favor from you?" Draco nodded obligingly for her to continue. "You may use any of the old classrooms on the fourth floor for your project. But no more sneaking out at night, you'll fall sick or get killed by one of those horrific creatures in the forest."

Draco gaped. How had she known? Even Harry wouldn't have found out if not for that blasted map! He opened and closed his mouth, searching for something to say, some plausible way to deny what she had known. McGonagall gave him a kind smile. "Hogwarts quite loves to gossip - and as headmistress, the castle likes telling me things." She winked at him, then resumed grading papers, an apparent dismissal. Draco remained there a moment longer, then abruptly turned and left.

——————————————————

After a quick detour to the Owlry to send the letter to his mother, Draco rushed to the Great Hall for lunch. He entered, making his way to the familiar Slytherin table.

Pansy didn't even look up from her food when Draco sat down. "Where's Blaise?" He asked, reaching for a roll of bread. "I don't know," Pansy responded. "Where were you?" She sounded miffed. "Owlry," Draco told her, pouring himself a cup of pumpkin juice.

She sniffed. "I see. Owls are more important than friends now, I suppose. Who cares that Pansy had to walk down by herself to lunch when you could spend some quality time with stinky birds?" Draco tried very hard not to smile. It would not endear himself to the angry girl. "Oh Pans, you know it's not like that. I thought you were with Blaise; otherwise, I would have kept you company. Gentlemanly manners and all that." He bit into a small chunk of fish.

Pansy seemed slightly mollified by that. Draco knew the perfect way to cheer her up. "You won't believe what happened last night." He said in a low voice, sliding closer to confide in her. Pansy gave him a look that very clearly told him if he didn't continue, she would murder him painfully. "I was in the forest," Draco began, "doing my, um, project." Pansy nodded, she disapproved but was aware of his nighttime adventures. "And I hear a noise, and then breathing, so naturally, I guessed it was Harry." Pansy rolled her eyes. "Naturally," she muttered underneath her breath.

"Shhhh," Draco hissed. "Do you want to hear the story or not?" Without waiting for confirmation, because he already knew she did, he went on. "And then Harry takes off his invisibility cloak. He found out what I was doing, and we argued about it a bit, and then we argued about other things, and, well, at some point, we started...flirting...I guess, and then he kissed me! And not just once, but a lot! And then we flirted some more and came back up to the castle," Draco finished.

Pansy did not look very surprised. She did not even seem all that excited. "Is that all?" She asked, not impressed. "You've kissed before, you kissed again, big deal." Draco frowned. "Really? I think it was a big deal. We also spoke this morning, and he said he wanted to be in a relationship with me. Or, at least, he said he wanted there to be an 'us,'" Draco said, unsure.

"Yes, that does sound like he wants to be a couple. Gryffindors," she said, shaking her head. Pansy went back to her lunch like Draco had been merely talking about the weather or some homework, not a life-changing development. "What's wrong with you?" He asked, concerned, and slightly annoyed. "I thought you would have been asking all kinds of questions."

She rolled her eyes. "What do you want me to ask? You don't need me to analyze his words to see if he likes you back or not. Clearly, he's a good kisser if you kissed him more than once. I can't help you with asking him to be your boyfriend since you've already got that covered. You haven't even slept with him yet, so we can't discuss whether he's good in bed or not. You don't need me," she said matter-of-factly.

Now Draco understood what this was all about. "I'll never stop needing you, Pans. Sure I've always wanted to go out with Harry, but you've been my best friend since we were children. You're far more important. Who else will call me out on my bullshit? Who else will go shopping with me? Surely not Harry, not with his fashion sense. I do need you, Pans. Always," Draco assured her.

Finally, the girl smiled at him. "Oh, all right, darling. Tell me everything." And Draco knew she had forgiven him.

Halfway through lunch, Blaise sat down at their bench. Both of them turned to stare at him. "And where have you been?" Pansy asked accusingly. Blaise only shrugged.

"Forgot it was lunchtime," he offered, filling his plate.

"Uh-huh," Pansy said knowingly. "I supposed Longbottom also just happened to forget lunch at the same time? And he must have needed to run over here because he looks quite disheveled, doesn't he Blaise? Right, Draco?" Pansy said, snickering.

Draco couldn't resist joining in. "He sure does, Pans. I think he must've tripped like usual - his face is all red, especially his lips. Oh look, they're even swollen." The both of them were laughing outright now, Blaise ignoring them and scowling.

——————————————————

Harry sat in his usual place in the Great Hall. He wondered why Draco had decided to stay back in Transfiguration, but that was pushed aside as he started to eat. Hermione and Ron were chatting about a new store in Hogsmeade, but Harry didn't feel like joining in.

He was caught up in thoughts of class, numerous essays that were nearing their due dates, Draco, Quidditch, what Draco was doing last night, the Charms project, Draco kissing him, Draco this morning as they agreed to trust each other, Draco kissing him this morning, Draco, Draco, Draco, Draco...

"Harry," Hermione said exasperatedly. He jumped. "Yes, 'Mione?" Harry replied guiltily.

"What on earth is making you so distracted?" She asked, clearly curious. "Erm...," Harry said helpfully.

"It's Malfoy," Ron said, munching away on his chicken. "What else can keep Harry's attention for so long?"

Hermione turned to him, trying to ascertain whether Ron was right or not. Harry tried to look innocent and not like he was thinking about Draco, which he was. "I think you're right, Ron," Hermione decided. "He is thinking about Draco."

"Always the tone of surprise," Ron muttered. Hermione ignored him.

"Well, of course I'm thinking about Draco, now that you two have brought him up," Harry protested. "That doesn't mean I was before." His friends shared a glance. "But were you?" Hermione asked.

Harry hesitated. "Only a little..."

She rolled her eyes. "Why is he on your mind right now? He's not even here! Oh wait, maybe that's why; it because you're wondering why he's not at lunch yet, and you want to know where he could be..." she trailed off, brain moving too fast for her mouth to keep up.

"Yeah, that's it," Harry said unconvincingly.

Hermione nodded. "Okay, so it's something else. If it's not routine Draco-obsession, that means something else happened," she declared. Harry groaned.

"Someone was walking around really early," Ron chimed in. "I heard footsteps in the hall outside the dorms when I was up. The beef soup last night did not agree with me." He turned a faint shade of green at the memory.

Harry glared at the both of them. "Since when did you two start working together against me? Bloody hell, as if 'Mione wasn't perceptive enough on her own!"

Harry slumped in his seat. "Fine. I snuck out last night because I heard Draco leave our room. I wanted to see what he was doing so late, or rather, early."

The dynamic duo started at him expectantly. "Well?" Hermione prompted. "What was he doing?"

Harry sighed. "Nothing suspicious," he half-answered. He felt like it would be betraying Draco's trust if he told them about the Animagus attempts. "Okay?" Hermione said, confused. Harry never missed an opportunity to discuss Draco's behavior.

"Yes, well, what he was doing isn't the important thing here," Harry quickly said, trying to redirect the conversation. Unfortunately, that meant he wasn't thinking about what he was going to say, so he blurted out: "I kissed him last night. Again."

Hermione clapped her hands together. "Oh, Harry! That's wonderful! I'm so glad you two are finally getting somewhere." Ron nodded his congratulations but was too busy eating to say anything.

Harry sighed again because he knew he couldn't stop there. "And he kissed me this morning. I also told him I wanted us to be together. And so now we're dating?" He said the last part as a question because he genuinely had no clue.

Hermione let out a very girly noise. "Oh, that's perfect! About time! Have you asked him on a date yet?" She gushed.

Harry shared an alarmed look with Ron. Neither of them knew how to navigate this side of Hermione.

"Erm...no, I haven't gotten around to that yet," Harry said nervously. Hermione sighed. "Harry, you should ask him to Hogsmeade - I'm sure he would like to be somewhere with you that isn't in the castle."

Harry nodded. It was good advice, and one should always pay attention to Hermione's ideas.


	23. Chapter 22

The next day, Harry decided he would ask Draco out on a date, to make it official. He didn't want to do it publicly - that would be asking for trouble - so he had to wait until no one else was around. Unfortunately, that did not happen as often as one might think for such a large castle. Every time Harry glanced over at the blond, he seemed to be with someone or another. Slytherins, Ravenclaws, Hufflepuffs, even Gryffindors were always hanging around him, chattering about one thing or another. He supposed he could ask to talk to Draco alone, but he was already so nervous. It would be like seeking out a potential disaster.

He knew there was no reason to expect rejection. Draco was interested in him; there was no mistaking that. There was no justification for his anxiety - Draco had already expressed a willingness to be in a relationship with Harry. However, that didn't stop the butterflies in his stomach from going mad every time he thought about doing it.

As he left class, he spotted a familiar platinum blond head bobbing along the corridor ahead of him. His heart sped up, and he hurried forward, intending just to do it. He had nearly reached Draco when suddenly, a slight figure cut in front of him and began to talk to the boy.

The severely cut sleek black hair was all too familiar to him, and he muttered, "Dammit, Parkinson" under his breath. The girl had the most inconvenient timing. He walked behind them, not hiding per se, but not making himself known either. It wasn't eavesdropping if he wasn't hiding.

"Well? What are you moping about today?" She asked impatiently.

Draco shot her a look, but Harry couldn't see his expression from where he was standing.

"I'm not moping," he insisted. "I'm perfectly content today."

Even without looking at his face, Harry could tell that wasn't true. The inaccuracy of his falsehood shone out through his posture, the set of his shoulders, even the way his fingers twitched as he lied. To the untrained eye, his statement might appear to be correct, but Harry knew better. Just seeing Draco slouching enough to be a hairbreadths' away from perfect told him something wasn't right.

"Of course," replied Parkinson, unconvinced. "I have no doubts about the veracity of that."

"Good," he replied. "Because you shouldn't. There's absolutely nothing for you to doubt."

They walked in strained silence for a couple of seconds. Then, Parkinson said, "So what has Potter done this time?" Harry started at the use of his name and listened harder to see if he had done something to make Draco like this.

"Nothing," Draco said, and his fingers twitched imperceptibly. Harry narrowed his eyes. He hadn't even talked to Draco since the previous day, what could have gone wrong in such a small amount of time? Luckily, Parkinson pursued the matter for him: "You know you'll feel better if you tell me. I can assure you that you're simply overthinking the matter, whatever it is."

Draco shook his head irritatedly. "I already know that I'm being overly sensitive; I don't need you to tell me that." He sighed. "It's nothing. It's not something Potter did; it's more something he didn't do."

Parkinson gave him an exasperated look. "You have it bad, darling, truly. Just go find him, I'm sure he'll be as delighted to see you as you will be to see him." Draco sighed again.

Harry decided that it was a good time to interject. "He'll be even more delighted than you, I'd wager." Parkinson jumped and turned around, startled. Draco's reaction was less overt; he merely stiffened before facing Harry.

Parkinson scowled in annoyance, but Harry only had eyes for Draco. He watched as the boy straightened slightly, his eyes flashing with only the barest hints of the emotions he felt. Embarrassment was the most dominant, but there were underlying flickers of anger and fear. Eventually, though, happiness bled through and shone out with a fierceness that took his breath away, manifesting on the blond's face as a slow, hesitant smile that Harry gladly returned.

"Wonderful," Pansy drawled dryly. "You're both as sickeningly sappy as the other. No wonder you two make a perfect pair."

Draco glanced at her, something passing over his face too quickly for Harry to read. Parkinson seemed to have received the message because she winked at Harry and then left unceremoniously.

"So..." Harry began, unsure of how to start this conversation. Draco did not offer him any assistance, leaving him to flounder in silence. "Erm...Do you want to go outside?"

Draco gazed at him, making some assessment of his features. He must have seen something there because he nodded, reaching for Harry's hand. Heart filling with warmth, he took it, squeezing it gently and leading the other boy towards the doors.

Walking carefully together so that their joined hands were less visible, they made their way onto the chilly grounds in comfortable quiet. Eventually, they reached a willow tree, much like what the Whomping Willow would have been like without its notorious enchantment. It was the perfect spot - the branches hung low enough and were thick enough that no one would be able to see them unless they walked right up to them. They sat down next to each other, leaning back on the sturdy, rough trunk of the tree.

Harry couldn't stand the silence any longer, but he didn't want to bring up a date quite yet. He settled on asking: "So what was it exactly that I did? Or, rather, didn't do." He glanced sideways to see a ghost of a smile flicker across Draco's face.

"Don't worry about it. You fixed it already. No need to dwell on problems of the past," Draco said, just a touch too fast.

Hmmm. Whatever it was, it was something embarrassing. That was the only thing that explained his strange behavior until then. He turned fully to face Draco, who was now avoiding his gaze.

"I think I should know," Harry insisted. "So that I don't do it again by accident." Draco shook his head slightly, a hint of a scowl twisting his features. "No need. It's something I need to work on, not you."

Harry deliberated. His careful avoidance only made him more curious. He scooted closer to the other boy, intent on finding out what had been bothering him. "Please tell me, Draco. It doesn't matter what it is; I promise I won't say anything," he prodded.

Draco still did not meet his eyes. Harry gently reached up and took hold of his chin, tilting his face so he could look into his favorite gray eyes, even as they didn't look into his.

"What could be so bad? You told me already how trivial a matter it is, so why can't you tell me? I won't judge or laugh at you," he pleaded. He begged no longer out of curiosity, but a desire to see whether Draco could be open and honest with him. It was the first test of their soon-to-be relationship — a small one, but an important one nonetheless.

"It's a bit pathetic," he muttered. Harry wondered why he refused to look at him and ducked down to try to meet his eyes. It worked, and their gazes locked, intense as Harry's eyes advertised his challenge.

Draco never was one to back down easily.

"Alright," he whispered. "I'll tell you."

Harry did not so much as breathe, scared he would change his mind.

The blond murmured something inaudible. Harry hardly dared to interrupt, but he had to ask him to repeat it louder.

"I hadn't seen you since the day before, and it felt like you were avoiding me," Draco clarified.

Harry blinked. This was not anything like what he had expected. He thought he had forgotten to do something important or anything else along those lines. It was oddly...cute. He smiled widely, catching the Slytherin off guard.

"What?" Draco asked suspiciously.

Harry laughed. "Nothing. It's nothing."

Draco glared. "You promised you wouldn't laugh," he accused indignantly. Harry smiled even more at that. "I'm not laughing at you," he assured Draco through his grin. "I'm just happy."

Draco pouted. It was adorable and just made Harry start laughing again. When he finally regained control of himself, he leaned in to kiss Draco's pout away, still smiling. Draco stubbornly kept frowning.

Pulling back just enough to speak, Harry said, "I missed you too, you know. It makes me anxious when I don't talk to you for too long."

"Then, why didn't you?" Draco asked. "I saw you were looking at me throughout the day, but you never came over. I thought you weren't speaking to me for some reason." He looked sad at the thought.

Harry felt desperation rise in him. He never wanted to see that expression on Draco again. He wondered how he was ever capable of gaining joy from that expression. It was so forlorn, so heartbroken, even with a face as inexpressive as his was. His masks were insurmountable and innumerable; Harry felt a great sense of accomplishment every time he broke through the walls. The boy had far too many years of training and had needed those masks when the Dark Lord reigned in his house. He was grateful for those masks even as he detested them. He despised seeing Draco as sad as he was while loving that he allowed him to witness it. It tested the very boundaries of his heart, holding so many conflicting feelings.

"Never," Harry promised, meaning it. "Nothing you do can keep me away now. You're stuck with me, your own personal Gryffindor," he joked, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Draco gave him a small smile, and he felt like he had won the Quidditch Cup.

"So why didn't you come over to me? I know you were looking at me a lot, don't deny it," Draco said coolly.

"Erm...well," Harry hesitated. He wasn't ready for this, but when would he ever be? He didn't have any plausible excuses either...

"I...wanted to...er...ask you...about...about something," he said awkwardly. Draco just gave him a contemptuous look. Harry sighed in defeat.

"I wanted to ask you if...if you would go out with me? To Hogsmeade?" He clarified nervously.

Draco was silent for so long that Harry started to worry that he had imagined the past few days, and this request was utterly unwarranted. "On a date?" Draco finally asked, voice neutral and face stoic.

"Yes?" Harry said, but it sounded more like a question than an answer.

They were silent for a couple more beats, Harry worried and Draco...mysterious.

"And that is why you were avoiding me today?" Draco clarified again. "Not avoided," Harry corrected. "Just waiting for a chance to get you alone. Who knew so many people would vie for your attention?"

Draco scrunched his nose up indignantly. "Of course, people want my attention! They fight for the chance to speak to me, just as peasants line up to speak to their lord," he announced snootily.

"Of course," Harry placated him, rolling his eyes. "This peasant wants to know whether you'll ever answer his humble invitation." He held his breath in anticipation.

It was Draco's turn to roll his eyes. "Do you need an answer? I quite forgot you had asked me something; the answer was so clear." Harry's heart leaped as he was awarded a dazzling smile. "Saturday. If you forget, you're dead to me."

——————————————————

"You always win," Draco complained grumpily. "Even I can't resist your charms." Harry let out a startled laugh. "What do you mean by that?" He asked, genuinely confused.

"I mean earlier," Draco elaborated. "You manage to get information out of me with just a look." He sounded put out by that fact.

"I'm not immune to you either," Harry protested. "If you wanted me to do something, do you think I could refuse?"

"Yes," was his confident answer.

"No," Harry disagreed. "The answer is no."

"I don't believe you," Draco said unhappily, and it sounded like he thought it was true.

"Try," Harry urged. "Ask me something I wouldn't want to tell you. Go on."

Draco gave him a very skeptical look, and then his face morphed into one of contemplation. Then, it changed to a very, very smug expression.

"Why do you blush when I whisper your name?" He asked triumphantly. "Not that one," Harry refused immediately. "Anything but that."

"Too late," he crowed in delight. "You should've known better than to give me an opening like that."

Harry put on his defiant face and resolved not to break. It was all the more difficult because part of him wanted Draco to break through his defenses.

Draco's face fell ever so slightly. "Please," he breathed. "I won't make fun, I promise," he added, echoing Harry's words back to him. Harry deliberated but didn't say a word.

Unlike Draco earlier, Harry was still looking at his face, and so he was subjected to the full force of the boy's endless beguiling charms. In a move that the girls who once tried to flirt with him used, the blond looked down, then back up at Harry through his impossibly long eyelashes. He looked coy and almost shy, pulling off the move better than those girls ever had. Harry was entranced.

"Why won't you tell me?" Draco asked, sounding small and unhappy. Harry bit his lip. Why didn't he want to tell Draco? It was pretty harmless now that they were together. Why couldn't he give the boy what he wanted? It would make him happy, and that is all that Harry wanted.

Harry broke. "I blush because of a dream I had," he confessed. A spark of interest lit up the steely eyes. "A dream?" Draco prodded.

Harry nodded shyly. "I had a dream. About you," he revealed. Draco's eyes widened. "Tell me," he demanded immediately.

"Er...well, I heard you whispering my name, and then you appeared out of nowhere. That's it," Harry tried to convince him. Draco wasn't having it.

"That's not nearly enough to make you blush," he declared. His eyes became calculating. "How about we make a deal? If you tell me what happened in that dream, I'll mimic it now."

Harry contemplated that. "Okay," he agreed. "It's not terribly exciting," he warned. "Nothing we haven't already done. You just kissed me, and it freaked me out because I liked it. A lot."

Draco was quiet for a minute, then broke out into a smirk. "You dreamed about kissing me before you knew you were queer, didn't you?" He asked smugly. Harry has no choice but to respond in the affirmative, knowing that it was true.

"I turned you gay!" Draco exclaimed proudly. "Not gay. Bisexual," he corrected, but he smiled at Draco's enthusiasm. "Now shut up, you great big ponce. You owe me a kiss." He leaned in to collect his reward, and Draco gladly obliged.


	24. Chapter 23

Friday rolled around, and Draco was nothing if not nervous. The anticipation was too much to handle; the only thing he could do was use his endless homework and projects to shove the upcoming date to the back of his head. Consequently, he had nearly entirely repressed any thought of it, and when Harry ran up to him and told him that he would be waiting at the Entrance Hall by the main doors at ten 'o clock, Draco was briefly bewildered.

"Whatever are you talking about?" Draco asked him. Harry gave him a funny look. "You know," he slowly said as if Draco were stupid. "Hogsmeade. Tomorrow. Saturday. Together? Is any of this ringing a bell?" He asked facetiously.

"Of course," Draco said, pretending he had known what Harry was talking about the entire time, mainly because he was the one who had impressed the importance of remembering upon Harry. "You caught me thinking about something else. I'll be there," he added. Harry flashed him his signature crooked smile and rushed off once more, looking even more of a mess than usual. Draco shook his head fondly. Who would have thought he would ever go on a date with that idiot?

——————————————————  
That night, Draco found it very hard to fall asleep. He had a nagging feeling like he had forgotten something essential, but he could not remember for the life of him what it was. He mentally ran through everything that happened during the day, not encountering anything that could remind him of his forgotten task. He tossed and turned, desperately expecting the feeling to go away on its own. He cast about for something else to think of, hoping that would aid him in his effort. Almost of its own will, his mind latched onto Harry.

He wondered what the brunet had planned for tomorrow. Draco was almost apprehensive; he didn't know what Harry's idea of an incredible date was, but he was almost sure it would not match up with his standards. He was so endearingly clueless and hopeless at all things romantic. His relationship with the female Weasley had unequivocally ended, at least partly because of the idiot's inability to identify the needs and desires of his partner. Sexuality aside, they never would have lasted longer than a year. Draco would give Harry a chance to prove himself, though, because he really, really liked Harry. Maybe the prat would exceed all expectations as he tended to do, quite infuriatingly so.

——————————————————

Draco awoke quite suddenly. He had no recollection of the previous night's dream, but he knew it must have been something out of the ordinary if he had woken up that way. He lay in bed for a couple of minutes, listening to the sound of his dorm mates' breathing. As his mind grew less foggy and more aware, he realized there was less snoring than usual.

Harry was not in their room.

What could he be doing at - Draco blearily cast a Tempus - eight in the morning? They didn't have to meet for another two hours. That was plenty of time to change and eat breakfast. Speaking of such matters, Draco needed to get out of bed. His outfit wouldn't pick itself.

Forty-five minutes later, Draco sailed out of the room with his appearance perfected down to the last hair. There had been no sign of Harry the entire time. He sauntered through the common room, out of the dungeons, and up to the Great Hall. Plopping down at the Slytherin table, he began to fill his plate, ignoring the whispers that accompanied his arrival.

Only moments later, Pansy hurried in and dropped down beside him, out of breath and looking harried.

"You...cannot just...burst out of...your room...looking like...that...and then just...leave!" She hissed between panting in breaths of air. Pansy leaned against the table for a moment, steadying her breathing before she glared and continued as if there were no interruptions.

"You should've at least stayed for the reactions," she said huffily. "They were priceless." Without waiting for him to respond, she barged on. "If you were going to get all fancy, you should've called me! I know you better than you know you, darling. For Merlin's sake, you don't even know that forest green suits you far better than hunter green, and you always mix up the shoes you're meant to wear. If I had been there..." Draco tuned her out. Usually, he was all for discussing what made him look sexier and what made him look more elegant, but he could not afford to waste time today. He had things to do, places to be, Harry Potters to meet.

——————————————————

After Pansy's long-winded rant, Draco finally managed to ask her what she thought of his chosen ensemble. Her response: "If Potter weren't going out with you, he would jump off of the Astronomy Tower out of sheer pining."

Sometime during Pansy's speech, Blaise had sat down and, quickly catching on, proceeded to ignore Pansy and Draco. He, too, looked far nicer than usual, so much so that Draco eventually asked whom he was planning on going to Hogsmeade with and if they happened to be a certain Gryffindor boy whose name began with "L" and ended with "ongbottom."

Blaise, of course, just smiled enigmatically.

Draco, still not seeing any sign of Harry, was beginning to worry. Surely he would make it back from whatever he was doing on time to go on their date? If not...well, then, it would be safe to say Harry had ditched him.

He held out hope, though, and left the Great Hall at exactly quarter to ten. As the minutes passed by, he grew more anxious until just before the clock chimed the hour, he was tapping his foot, arms crossed.

From far off, there was the sound of ten loud bongs. Draco waited through all of them, foot finally stilling. Then he waited five more minutes because Harry was always late. Just as he was about to leave, heart sinking in despair, a familiar mop of unruly black hair barrelled around the corner. Draco stopped, watching as the hurtling body tried to run, put on a coat, and keep hold of a small, cream-colored box all at once. To the amazement of everyone who stopped to stare at the Idiot Who Lived, he managed to get his coat on the moment he stopped in front of Draco, still carrying the box.

"Hi," Harry said, flushed and grinning. Draco raised an eyebrow at him. The brunet rolled his eyes and said, "I know I'm late, but I needed to stop and get something." He held up the box for Draco's inspection. Draco gracefully accepted the gift and the apology with a brief smile. Under Harry's encouraging gaze, he carefully removed the lid and moved the tissue paper that was inside. His eyebrows furrowed in confusion as he stared at the object it contained.

"Er- Harry, I know I'm vain, but I don't require a mirror at all times." Draco picked up the small, oval-shaped piece of glass and held it closer to examine it. It was only the size of an egg and was attached to a chain like a pendant. The mirror was edged with a simple silver border. Harry cleared his throat, and Draco looked up at him. "It's not for looking at your reflection," he clarified. "It's an enchanted mirror. Sirius gave me the set a couple of years ago. I got its pair back from Aberforth, so we can use them to communicate at any distance." Harry fished out a matching necklace from under his shirt and held it up. Draco looked at it then back at his mirror.

"I had to reshape them," Harry rambled on. "Yours was a shard and had lots of sharp edges, so I made it safer. Mine was much bigger, so I cut it to look like yours. Do you mind?" He asked abruptly, eyes manifesting his sudden concern. "I don't want to overstep; I just wanted to make sure we had a backup plan in case-"

Draco stopped him with a single finger held up. "Shhh," he insisted. "I can't put it on if you don't hold the box for me." With that, he shoved the package into Harry's hands and unceremoniously looped the chain around his neck. Harry watched in silence as Draco tucked it into his robes, then gestured to the doors. "Well?" He asked impatiently. "Are we going, or do you have any more surprises?"

——————————————————

Together, they walked down to Hogsmeade. The trip was short, and they spent it in comfortable silence. When they reached the village, Draco turned to Harry and asked, "Where to, Chosen One?" The brunet scowled at him but still took his hand, leading him towards their destination. When Draco saw the establishment they were heading towards, he immediately protested. "The Hog's Head, Harry? That place is terribly dirty, and the lighting is awful. I heard most of the food is inedible! Why don't we go to the Three Broomsticks instead, I bet it'll be warm and-" he stopped when they approached the door, not wanting the owner to hear him.

"It's fine, Draco," Harry assured him. "I've been here more than once, and it's quite nice to be perfectly honest. It's better than the Three Broomsticks, in my opinion; it's far too crowded and noisy in there." Draco frowned but acquiesced. They entered, the interior of the bar only just slightly warmer than the frigid weather outside. Harry pulled him right up to the bartender and asked him for the back room. As far as Draco could see, there was no back room.

Distracted by looking around, Draco took a moment to notice to whom they were talking. When he finally faced the owner, the bright blue eyes nearly gave him a heart attack. But the moment he registered the eyes, he immediately started taking in other details about the older man in front of him. His beard wasn't nearly as long, there were no half-moon spectacles, and his nose wasn't crooked. A million other differences jumped out at him, but he was still terrified of the man standing in front of him.

Draco had tried to kill his brother, after all.

The man did not take much notice of him, however. He turned and led them to the side, where a dark hallway was barely visible. At the very end, two doors waited for them; they went through the one on the right. Surprisingly, it was pleasant; there was a table set for two, and the light was dimmed to a cozy setting. It was clean, unadorned, and private - perfect for them.

Draco turned to Harry, noting that the Dumbledore look-alike had disappeared. "Who was that?" He demanded. Harry looked startled for a second before understanding, and a hint of pity flashed across his face. "Aberforth Dumbledore," he replied solemnly.

Draco shakily collapsed into one of the chairs and buried his face in his hands. "Why doesn't he blame me?" He muttered to himself. "Why doesn't he know who I am? Why doesn't he hate me? He should have kicked me out; I don't deserve to be in the same building as him. I don't deserve it. I don't deserve it. I don't-"

"Hey!" Harry said loudly. "Don't, Draco. He knows who you are. He just doesn't think you bear the guilt for his brother's death." Draco raised his head, starting to say something, but Harry cut him off instantly. "No, he genuinely doesn't blame you. And-" Harry pinned him with an intense, emerald gaze, "If he doesn't, you definitely can't blame yourself." Draco lowered his head again. Suddenly, it was just too heavy to hold up, his guilt weighing him down and thoughts pulling him deeper into misery. Then those green, green eyes were right in front of him, looking up as Harry knelt on the floor. "Draco," he whispered. "It's alright. Please don't let this ruin today. I forgot about Aberforth, but even if I hadn't, I would have brought you here. You need to see that even Dumbledore's brother doesn't dislike you."

Draco took a deep, shaky breath. "Okay," he replied eventually. Maybe Harry was right.

——————————————————

They only ordered butterbeer, seeing as they had already eaten, and it was too early to get drunk. Together, they sat sipping their drinks in companionable silence. Out of nowhere, Harry blurted, "Can I ask you a question?"

"You mean other than the one you just asked?" Draco raised an eyebrow inquisitively. "Alright, but I reserve the right not to answer." Harry rolled his eyes and muttered something that sounded like "Slytherins."

Draco ignored him, wondering what the question would be. Harry coughed. "It's embarrassing," he admitted. "A couple of weeks...months?...ago, I overheard you say something..." he trailed off. Draco sighed with impatience. "If you want me to confirm it, you'll have to tell me what you heard."

Harry looked sheepish. "Okay...erm, I had a nightmare one night, and I was trying to get out of our dorm when I- er- happened to hear you talking to Parkinson in the common room. I didn't mean to eavesdrop," he emphasized. "I was only trying to pass through. But, I couldn't help but listen to what you were saying."

"Okayyyy," Draco drew out the word. "If you heard me tell Pansy, it was probably true."

"So, you did have a crush on a guy at the beginning of the term?" Harry exclaimed. Draco leaned back in shock. Only seconds later, though, he huffed with exasperation. "Yes, of course. You."

It was Harry's turn to be surprised. "Me?" He repeated in confusion. "You...you had a crush on me?" He blinked in utter bewilderment. Draco snorted. "Who else would it be? Honestly, Harry, you're shockingly oblivious. Is there anyone else in our entire school besides Pansy and Blaise that I talk to more than you?"

Harry opened his mouth and shut it again. After a few beats of silence, Draco stated, "Well, if that's all you wanted, may I ask you a question?" Harry, still stunned, nodded.

"Do you still have nightmares?"

Harry adopted a thoughtful expression. "Well, yes, but they're much more infrequent than they used to be. It's only every three of four days as opposed to nearly every night."

Draco contemplated this for a second. "Would you tell me what they're about?" He asked, interested in what could scare the Boy Who Lived. The brunet looked down, lips pressed together tightly, and shook his head. Before Draco could protest, he elaborated, "They don't have power over any part of me except how much I sleep. The nightmares no longer haunt me - they're just an annoyance. I don't want you to worry unnecessarily."

"It wouldn't be unnecessary," Draco muttered but allowed it. "Is there anything that gets rid of them?"

At that, Harry looked up and smiled at him. "You. When I napped with you, I didn't have any dreams at all. Hermione says that sleeping next to anything would help, human or animal." Draco nodded. "Your Granger is quite right," he declared. "You should think about getting a pet. A nice crup or kneazle would do."

Harry chuckled. "You two would be great friends," he informed the blond, beaming. Draco scoffed at the idea but secretly thought Granger wouldn't be so bad. It was the Weasel he had to watch out for.


	25. Chapter 24

Harry shivered, the frigid air blasting his face as they exited the tavern. He eyed Draco, who had his hands shoved deep into his pockets, and lamented the lack of pockets in his outer robes. He absolutely had to get new ones. For now, though, he settled for slipping his right hand into Draco's left pocket and letting the other one succumb to frostbite. No one needed two hands anyway. 

"Argh!" Draco yelped as he felt the block of ice wrap around his unfortunate appendage. He leveled a positively menacing glare at Harry, but the latter did not care one bit. Grumbling, Draco allowed Harry's hand to remain in his pocket and even held it tight so it would warm up faster. In such a manner, they awkwardly walked and occasionally stumbled through the village. They didn't have any destination in mind, but their teenage stomachs were leading them vaguely in the direction of Honeydukes.

Suddenly, a voice called, "Wait up, you two!" Trying to turn around without separating was difficult, and they nearly fell over, but they eventually managed and saw Pansy Parkinson striding over towards them. 

"Hey Dray, Potter," she greeted. Harry glanced sideways at the blond at the nickname, but Draco ignored him, glowering at Parkinson instead.

Without stopping, she grabbed Harry's arm and started dragging him off. "You don't mind if I borrow Potter for a bit, do you? No? Okay, good; I'll be just a minute, then you can have your precious boy toy back." She yanked him with such force that she ripped his hand out of Draco's, and she hauled him about ten meters away, just out of Draco's hearing range.

"Okay, Potter, I'm going to make this quick, before Dray comes over here and murders me." She scowled at him with the force of a million stampeding erumpets. "You better make this date good. He'll never admit it, but he's a romantic type, and he cares about these things. If this is boring, he'll wait until you're married with kids and tell them you were a terrible boyfriend and they shouldn't listen to any of your advice. He'll bring it up in arguments and use it as leverage. He's petty like that, we all are." She looked over his shoulder at Draco, eyes softening, then back at Harry. "Be good to him, and he'll repay you a million times over. He cares about you, Potter, so make sure you deserve it." With that, she flounced off, pushing past him.

He froze. Parkinson had never been this close to him, so maybe that's why he had never known. Subconsciously, though, he must have detected it, that oh-so-familiar flowery scent—Ginny's perfume. Parkinson must use it too.

Suddenly, Harry understood.

It had never been Ginny's scent in the Amortentia in Sixth Year. Everyone knows how close Parkinson and Draco had been that year; they were around each other all the time. It wouldn't have been improbable for the blond to pick up traces of her smell. Harry was following Draco so much that year that he must have noticed it, even if he didn't identify it.

It had always been Draco, hadn't it?

\----------------

Draco walked up to Harry, who was staring blankly into the distance. "Hey," he said, eliciting no reaction. He frowned. "What did she say to you?" He demanded. 

Harry shook himself and smiled unsteadily. "Nothing," he assured Draco, but he wasn't having it. "Obviously something has you this shaken up. What did she do?" He said through gritted teeth. Harry sighed. "It wasn't her. She was actually pretty helpful in that Slytherin way you guys have. You know, with that backhanded kindness. It's just-" he hesitated "-her perfume." His eyes became unfocused once more. "It made me understand."

"Understand what?" Draco asked frustratedly. Harry shook his head and looked right at him, a real smile on his face now. "I'll tell you later, I promise. But for now, let's go to Honeydukes. I hear they have a new line of truffles."

The two boys made their way to the famed sweet shop, which was incredibly full - it happened to be a Hogsmeade weekend for all the lower years too. Together, they pushed through the crowd to the anticipated new treats, managing to snatch a few of them. Quickly, they dashed to pay and left before they could get stolen, laughing the whole way. Harry led Draco to a secluded bench halfway to the Shrieking Shack, and they gobbled up their hard-won prizes, chocolate melting on their hands and in their mouths. Draco stole the last one, and Harry, knowing all about the blond's infamous sweet-tooth, wisely let him. He preferred treacle tarts anyway. And when Draco had finished eating it, Harry kissed him thoroughly, savoring the taste of the rich chocolate on both their tongues.

Nearly half an hour later, they strolled up to the Shrieking Shack together. They stood in silence for a moment before Harry spoke softly. "Remember third year?" He asked, still gazing at the decrepit building. Draco turned to narrow his eyes at him. "When you were invisible and assaulted me quite unfairly?" He returned snarkily. Harry grinned, still not moving his eyes. "You thought the place was haunted, didn't you?" The lack of a response was enough of an answer for him.

"It was never haunted," he informed the blond, much to his surprise if the small noise he made was any indication. Harry finally turned to face him. "It was Lupin the entire time. He would come here to transform during the full moons." Harry smiled softly. "My dad and godfather would keep him company and restrain him when needed. They came through a tunnel underneath the Whomping Willow; Wormtail was always the one to deactivate the tree. They spent hours with Lupin every month..." he trailed off into silence.

"Sounds like they were amazing friends," Draco commented. Harry's eyes lit up with something that couldn't be described as anything other than pride and love. It left Draco breathless with wonder. "They were," he agreed. "I told you how they became animagi for Moony - that's the level of dedication they had towards their friendship. They were never anything less than the best of friends - Wormtail aside," Harry noted darkly. "I remember during some of my detentions, I had to update the detention slips from past Hogwarts students. The four of them featured far too often, even more than you, me, all of Gryffindor, and the Weasley twins combined. They were always getting into trouble with each other and..." Draco could listen to Harry go on forever about his dad and his friends. The brunet adopted a fond but exasperated tone, and his eyes shone with such pure emotions that it made Draco want to smile.

However, there was also something so profoundly sad about it. Perhaps it was that Harry could speak with so much unrestrained love for men he had known from anywhere from four years to one when he should have been around them for eighteen. Maybe it was that he could feel so strongly for the father he had to acquaint himself with solely through the memories of others. Or possibly it was merely the fact that all three of the men Harry spoke so highly of had already died. They were three men Harry should have had around him now and for many years to come. They were people that should have been able to support him and give him advice through his adolescence and adulthood. Maybe the saddest thing was that Harry was doomed never to have a true father figure; he wouldn't even gain one by marrying him - Lucius would never be a decent father, especially to Harry Potter.

A cold hand on his face brought him out of his reverie.

"Hey," Harry whispered. "You alright?"

"Me?" Draco blinked at him. "What about you? How can you speak of them so easily?"

The question might have sounded rude if it were anyone else. But, Harry knew Draco had lost people too, knew that he understood how impossible it was to mention the deceased. Harry smiled comfortingly.

"It's not easy. It's never easy. But I figure they wouldn't want us to forget them. They would want us to tell their lives and stories if only so the next generation has access to quality pranks. We dishonor them more by staying silent," Harry said with complete conviction in his opinion.

Draco was surprised. Harry was brighter than he had ever guessed. In Granger's shadow, he had only ever appeared mediocre. Draco could only hope to find out the true depths of his wisdom someday.

They shared a look that was filled with more meaning than words could ever convey. Draco knew what Harry meant.

\-----------------

That evening, Draco headed for the common room while Harry left to study in their dorm. He lounged in his favorite armchair, a grey not unlike the color of his eyes, and stared absently into the flickering fire. The ever-changing colors and leaping tongues of flame captured his attention like nothing else, leaving his mind blissfully empty of complicated thought. Suddenly, he had an epiphany, and he launched himself out of the chair and hurried to his room. Gracefully, of course. 

He pushed the door open in a rush but stopped at the sight of a shirtless Harry. The boy jumped at whirled to face him.

"Again?" Harry asked in disbelief. "How do you always come in at the moment I start changing? Every time I get ready in the room instead of the bathroom, you manage to show up. It's uncanny!"

Draco only vaguely heard him somewhere in the back of his mind. He eyed the muscled torso appreciatively, and when it was covered, he made a sound of disappointment.

"What's wrong?" Harry asked anxiously. 

"What's wrong is that you are blocking the view," Draco informed him, gesturing at his body.

"What view?" Harry asked. "I'm nothing to look at." He tried to laugh it off as a joke, but Draco heard the self-consciousness underlying his tone. His eyes snapped up to meet the iconic green ones, and immediately he knew something was off.

"What's wrong?" He echoed. Harry looked away, tension lining his still bare shoulders.

Draco immediately stepped closer. Now that they were in a relationship, Harry was his concern, his to take care of. It was his duty - and his pleasure - to ensure that Harry received all the affection and attention he could provide.

He stopped when he was half a meter away from Harry, unwilling to cross the other boy's boundaries of personal space. Hesitantly, he reached out to touch his face, making sure that Harry had plenty of time to voice discomfort. He sensed this was a situation that needed to be handled delicately.

"Would you please tell me what's bothering you?" He pleaded quietly. That green gaze flashed towards him before moving away again.

"You'll think it's foolish," he argued weakly. "I don't doubt that," Draco agreed, "but how about you let me decide for myself?"

Harry deliberated silently. Finally, he straightened and looked Draco fully in the eyes. "I don't understand how you find me attractive," he stated clearly and firmly, but it was all a facade. His voice had a hint of a tremor, betraying his true feelings. A lot was depending on Draco's answer.

"Well, that is absurd," he announced. "Are you sure you know what a mirror is? Have you ever seen one before?" At Harry's bewildered expression, he rolled his eyes. He took Harry's arm and dragged him to the bathroom.

"See," he said exaggeratedly like he was speaking to a child, "this is a mirror. And those-" he pointed at Harry's defined torso in the mirror "-are called abdominal muscles. Abs. Say it with me. Aaabs."

"Huh." Harry frowned. "I never noticed that." Draco sighed in utter frustration. "You were a seeker, Harry. To be honest, most Quidditch players have those kinds of muscles. Beaters more so than others."

The brunet turned to him and raised an eyebrow. "What about you, then?" 

Draco smirked. "I guess you'll just have to wait and see. I mean, you've already seen me shirtless, but you must not have been paying attention."

When Harry smiled, Draco cupped his face in his hand and leaned in. "You are beautiful," he said gravely. "But it doesn't matter what I think. You are the only one who can decide. All I can do for you is to tell you the facts. Like: you're fit as hell, your smile could charm a rock, and your eyes are uniquely amazing," he proclaimed. 

Harry shook his head slightly, but Draco's hands restricted his movement. "Those are opinions," he pointed out. Draco grinned. "See? I'm useless."

"Not useless," Harry murmured. Then he smirked slyly and leaned in even closer, fidgeting with the hem of Draco's shirt. "I bet I can get another look at these supposed muscles of yours."

Draco faked offense. "Supposed? I will have you know they are very real and obvious."

"Only one way to find out," Harry said.


	26. Chapter 25

Harry woke up in a cold sweat, whispers of his dream still trailing through his mind. He shuddered at the mere memory of the nightmare. They were less frequent, yes, but he had lied to Draco about the other part. The nightmares were so much worse now, and they did haunt him.

Harry sat up. There was no point trying to sleep now - he was too awake. He sighed irritatedly and slid off the bed onto his feet. He seized the cloak and map, tucked his wand into the waistband of his pajamas, and left the dorm. Any noise he might have made was covered up by the sound of three snoring boys.

Once out into the draft corridors, Harry activated the map, wondering where he should go. Almost immediately, he saw a familiar name and smiled, changing the direction of his feet onto a new course.

He slipped into the old classroom, and Draco looked up at the sudden movement of the door. The blond grinned at the space to the right of him. "Hi, Harry! What are you doing up so late?"

When Harry pulled off the cloak, Draco rolled his eyes and adjusted his gaze. "I could ask the same of you," Harry pointed out. "I couldn't sleep, and I saw you on the map, so I decided to come here." He didn't say why he couldn't sleep, but Draco had always been smart.

"Nightmares?" Draco asked him. Harry nodded. "Well," Draco adopted a thoughtful expression. "I could always share your bed if that'll help," Draco smirked and fluttered his eyelashes flirtatiously, causing Harry to have a coughing fit.

Once he reemerged, Draco was already back to the book in front of him. "Is that the same book?" Harry asked, referencing the one he had seen in the woods. "No," Draco answered, flipping a page. "That one is still in the forest. This is the one McGonagall told me to look at."

Harry sat on the ground beside him. "Is it helping any?" Draco looked frustrated. "No. It tells me I need to clear my mind, which I've no trouble with, but then it says I must practice imagining something with enough detail to be accurate but not so much that I lose sight of the whole picture."

Harry deliberated on that for a minute. "How about you do me?" He asked.

Draco smirked, and Harry winced and blushed at his wording. "I didn't mean it like that. I intended to say that you should try visualizing me since I'm right here. You can look at my face or something, then try to recreate it in your mind, and you can see whether you were right or not."

"That's pretty smart," Draco said. "Alright, come closer, scarhead." Harry grimaced and scooted until he was right in front of Draco. The blond examined his face carefully, scrutinizing every feature. Harry shifted uncomfortably.

Draco reached up to cup his cheeks, holding his head still. "Stop fidgeting," he chided gently. "It makes it harder to ogle your beautiful face."

Harry flushed and opened his mouth to deny any sort of attractiveness, but Draco kissed him before he could get a word out. "Talking counts as moving," he murmured against his lips. "If you're going to be difficult, then I'll have to resort to thinking about something else."

Draco pulled back and, seeing Harry's still but mutinous face, grinned triumphantly. After another moment, he shut his eyes.

Harry waited patiently, perfectly content to take the chance to let his eyes roam over Draco's gorgeous face.

Suddenly, Draco exclaimed, "I've done it!" He opened his eyes and smiled smugly. "An exact replica," he noted with satisfaction. He leaned forward and kissed Harry once more, a short peck, before excitedly turning back to his book. He flipped to the next page and got lost in the words almost instantaneously.

Harry leaned back and watched him, a small smile on his lips.

——————————————————

At some point, Draco noticed Harry's eyelids begin to droop. He knew the stubborn idiot would never decide to go to bed on his own, so Draco opted to stop for the night. Together, they made their way down all the stairs to the dungeon. But, they didn't account for poltergeists.

Harry skipped the trick step he knew was there. One learned such intricacies of the castle after sneaking around it so long. However, the trick step was not where it should have been. His foot went through the stair below the one he stepped over, and he nearly lost his balance. He would have fallen quite far if Draco hadn't been there, but he managed to catch him just in time.

"Are you okay?" Draco asked, concerned.

"Yeah," Harry responded, pulling his leg out of the space and back onto solid ground. "My hero," he said affectionately to Draco, swooping in to give him a thank-you kiss.

"What have we here? Students out of bed, snogging?" Peeves' all-too-familiar voice sang. They jumped apart to see the ghost upside-down and grinning, and Peeves righted his body and blew a raspberry at them. "Potty and the Ickle Baby Death Eater," he crowed smugly. "Oh, imagine what everyone will say!" He cackled and zoomed off, chanting, "Potty snogged a Death Eater! Potty snogged a Death Eater!"

Harry and Draco stared after him in silence. Harry faced Draco. "Don't listen to him. You're not a Death Eater anymore."

"Are you kidding? I'm more concerned about the 'Ickle Baby' part of it." Draco scrunched his nose with distaste. "Though hearing him calling you Potty was most certainly worth it."

They were silent for another moment. "Should we be concerned about that?" Harry asked him. "Oh, definitely. The whole school will know by breakfast," he informed the brunet.

There was another beat of silence.

"What should we do?" Draco inquired. At the same time, Harry asked, "Does that bother you?"

Draco thought about it. Did he mind that the whole world would know soon enough that he was dating the Savior of the Wizarding World?

"I don't mind that everyone will know," he finally responded. "I'm more worried about what your rabid fangirls will do to me."

"Then this is what I say we should do," Harry declared and proceeded to tell him his plan.

When he finished, they hurried back to their dorm and went back to sleep in their respective beds but not without sharing a goodnight kiss.

——————————————————

The next morning, Harry woke up a bit later than they had agreed on, but he counted that as Draco's fault. He should've woken him up.

He rushed through his morning routine and hurried up to the Great Hall. Just outside, he spotted a shock of white-blond hair exactly where they agreed to meet. He hurried up to Draco and asked breathlessly, "Are you ready?"

Draco was tense, his muscles taut, and the lines in his neck standing out starkly. His jaw was clenched so tight it must have hurt. "As ready as I'll ever be," he said sharply.

Harry ran his hands up Draco's arms soothingly. "Hey," he spoke softly. "It'll be fine. Besides, this is all just a formality. Even if they stand up and start booing, it won't change how I feel about you. In fact, if they do that, I'll hex every last one of them."

Draco relaxed slightly, and that was enough. Harry knew nothing would completely take away his concerns. Draco had always been more worried about others' perceptions of him than Harry had ever been. Harry entwined the fingers of his right hand with Draco's left. "Scared, Malfoy?" He asked to relieve the tension further.

Draco's lips curved unwillingly into a smile. "You wish, Potter. And stop stealing my lines."

Together, they pushed their way through the doors of the Great Hall.

It wasn't all that dramatic. No one really looked at them - they were all used to people coming in and going out to spare a glance their way. Some students were already facing the doors, and those kids nudged their friends. People looked at them and just as quickly turned away, not terribly interested in their public display.

It was slightly unnerving.

Frowning, Harry allowed Draco to pull him towards the Slytherin table, as planned. Draco sat in his usual seat, which, Harry noticed, had one of the only uninterrupted views of where he usually sat. Harry sat next to Draco in Zabini's usual place. That prompted more looks and whispers than walking in with Draco had.

Only moments later, Draco's friends sat across from them.

"Explain," Parkinson demanded.

"Yes, I would quite like to know why my seat has been stolen by a Gryffindor," Zabini drawled.

Draco cleared his throat. "Both of you know Harry, my boyfriend." He stumbled over the word boyfriend, which Harry found utterly endearing. Draco spoke to him while spreading some jam on a piece of toast, "And, Harry, you know Blaise and Pansy, my sometimes friends."

Parkinson looked miffed at that.

"Yes, I know that already," she insisted. "But what is he doing here?" Parkinson - or was he meant to call her Pansy? - asked him pointedly.

Draco finished fiddling with the toast and conveniently chose that moment to take a bite, so Harry supplied her with an answer: "Eating."

"Doesn't much look like it," Zabini noted.

Harry didn't know what to say to that, but Draco helpfully shoved the piece of toast in his face, so he took the chance to avoid replying and bit into it.

"See?" Draco said. "Eating."

"You two are insufferable," Parkinson lamented.

At that exact instant, Ron chose to plop on the bench next to Harry. "Why are we sitting here?" He moaned in complaint, already reaching for a scone. "Feels weird on this side of the hall," he added before his mouth became otherwise occupied.

"I think it's a nice change," Hermione chimed in, sitting next to Parkinson, across from Draco.

Parkinson gaped at them. Harry spotted another bunch of his Gryffindor friends headed their way and hid a smile.

Seamus sat next to Zabini, Dean went for the spot next to him, and Ginny sat across from him next to Ron. Only seconds later, Luna wandered over to perch next to her girlfriend.

Parkinson groaned. "Since when did Slytherin become infested by Gryffindors?"

"Do shut up, Pansy dear," Draco told her. "We both know you aren't truly mad." Parkinson gave him a genuinely evil glare but struck up a conversation with Hermione anyway. Zabini continued to ignore the lot of them.

"You know," Harry started bemusedly, "I expected people to be at least a bit surprised that Draco and I are dating."

Seamus laughed. "Harry, mate, everyone suspected ages ago. Especially since you very publicly went out with Malfoy yesterday."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. He forgot people would've seen that. Clearly, his plan wasn't necessary at all because everyone already knew.

He turned to Draco. "We're idiots for not thinking of that," he stated. Draco glared at him, a smudge of jam on his lip. "You're the idiot," he countered. "It was your plan. Actually, now that I'm not half-asleep, it was entirely your fault Peeves saw us. You had your cloak, you dimwit, and you didn't even think to-"

Harry kissed him, surreptitiously licking off the bit of jam and simultaneously shutting him up. He pulled away quickly, a self-satisfied grin on his face.

Draco chucked a grape at him. "You're a tosser," the blond informed Harry, fighting a smirk of his own.

"Ewww," Ron grimaced. "Please don't do that in front of me, you'll put me off my food."

"At least that way the rest of us will have some," Draco muttered under his breath.

"Be nice, or I'll kiss you again," Harry threatened him.

"Hey!" Ron said indignantly. "You can't reward him for being mean to me. I'm your best mate!"

"And I'm his boyfriend, what's your point?" Draco retorted.

"Fine!" Harry exclaimed. "If you aren't nice to each other, I'll kiss Ron."

Both Draco and Ron looked suitably horrified by this prospect and were perfectly civil to each other for the rest of the meal.

Harry looked around at his friends, peacefully comingling with his boyfriend and his friends, even though they had been at each other's throats for years, and thought back to McGonagall's speech at the beginning of the year. They indeed were paragons of house unity, and Harry felt indescribably proud.


	27. Chapter 26

Harry should've known it wouldn't last. Everything had been going wonderfully, and since when did anything go that well for him for long? Everyone had been astonishingly accepting of his relationship with Draco, far more than they had dared to hope. Not a single person made a nasty comment, no one hexed Draco, and no student nor teacher told Harry he was making a mistake.

Harry wondered when the students of Hogwarts had grown up and moved on from the battle, when they had decided to stop their petty acts of misguided revenge, and when they had chosen to forgive instead of breeding hate.

"It was around the time they saw you do all those things, Harry," Hermione informed him. "Every student witnessed you forgiving Draco and befriending him when it would have been well within your rights to hex him six ways to Sunday. You have suffered more than anyone else from these wars, and yet, you can still look past the Dark Mark to see the person underneath. Once everyone else started doing that too, they found children who had been just as terrified and who had lost just as much if not more. After that, it was significantly easier to forgive, though never forget."

Harry could tell she had more to say, but Draco swept into the seat beside him at that exact moment, and they exchanged a glance and decided to save the topic for later.

Since the Plan to Make Their Relationship Public, as they were calling it, Draco and Harry, and occasionally their friends, had taken to sitting at each other's tables during mealtimes. Today, it was Gryffindor.

Draco still looked sleepy, his eyelids drooping, and his posture just the wrong side of perfect. Even his hair was far from the immaculate style he now preferred - it was dangerously close to Harry's level of messiness. Harry loved this Draco because it was his Draco. It was Draco stripped bare from all the pureblooded standards and ceaseless manners. It was Draco when he didn't have to pretend or try to be some perfect version of himself. It was the Draco he rarely got to see, the one that existed only in the fleeting moments between sleep and coffee, between daydreams and attentiveness, before going to bed and after a long snogging session. No one but Harry truly understood how precious and valuable these seconds were.

Harry grabbed Draco's hand and squeezed it, swooping in to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Good morning, love," he said softly, not wanting to break him out his reverie.

Draco, as out of it as he was, turned to steal a kiss. That done, he demanded, "Coffee, Harry. I need to be awake sometime soon. Classes start in a few."

"You don't need to be awake for those," Harry muttered, but he was already halfway done with the drink. He pushed the mug over a minute later and set about fixing a plate for Draco, seeing as he was already done with breakfast. He piled eggs onto the plate and added some fruit on the side, finishing it off with two slices of toast. He slid that over too, but Draco ignored it in favor of his coffee.

Harry turned back to their friends, who were having one loud discussion about Hogsmeade and whether or not Honeydukes was planning to buy the store next door so they could expand. He smiled and listened quietly, content to sit there and let the conversation flow around him.

A moment later, Draco chimed in on the argument, and Harry turned to see that he looked alert now. He smiled a bit regretfully but kissed his boyfriend's cheek one more time as a sort of welcome back to the land of the living.

Draco started in on his food. Between mouthfuls, but not with food in his mouth because he was raised properly, he said, "Harry, this is perfect. How did you know what I usually take?"

Harry blushed, and Ron, overhearing the comment, laughed loudly. "You should've heard him a couple of weeks ago, Malfoy," he snickered. "He was giving us a detailed description of what you eat and how it changes spending on your mood. Harry insisted it wasn't weird at all. It was quite funny. Definitely strange at the time, but it makes a lot more sense now. Obviously, he fancied you all those years," Ron noted wisely, punctuating it with a confident nod.

Harry groaned. "Ron," he said, "kindly shut up now." He felt the tips of his ears turning pink. Draco gave him a smug look. "Fancy me for a while, did you, Potter?" He asked teasingly.

"Of course not, Draco!" Harry protested immediately. "I did not fancy you for a moment before this year!"

Ron had a sudden coughing fit that sounded remarkably like the words "Sixth Year." Harry gave him an evil look.

"We all know Harry fancied Wood for a bit there," Draco was saying, and to Harry's utter horror, people were nodding along. "I did not fancy Wood!" He whisper-shouted. "I did not like a single male until Draco!" Harry flushed as he spoke the words, not having intended to reveal that fact, even though he was sure most people already knew. Though, maybe not if he considered this whole Wood business.

Draco looked like the cat that got the canary.

That's when it all went downhill. Harry should have known. He should have known. The morning was going far too well for it to turn out any other way.

——————————————————

Draco was having a bloody fantastic morning. Sitting with Gryffindors was proving to be very enlightening, and he should have done it earlier. Everyone knows Gryffindors have the best gossip.

In the middle of talking about Harry's crush on Draco, which he learned had started sometime in Sixth Year and had been quite obsessive for lack of a better word, the mail arrived. Harry was protesting fiercely while the owls swirled overhead, seeking out the recipients of their cargo. Medium-sized, generic brown-colored owls landed on the tables in front of many students. These were the owls of the Daily Prophet, much less prevalent than before but still frequent visitors of Hogwarts. Harry outright refused to buy the newspaper anymore. While Draco agreed they were ignorant, greedy vultures who published a dishrag that could only loosely be referred to as news, he thought it worthwhile to keep an eye on what nonsense they were coming up with. This morning, he half regretted it. Only half, though, because he was still glad to have some warning.

"Harry," Draco said hollowly, touching his arm to obtain his attention. "Harry, look at this."

"The Boy Who Lived Dates Known Death Eater," the headline exclaimed.

"That's not a good start," Harry muttered, spreading the article on the table before them so they could both read it.

The Boy Who Lived currently resides at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry, finishing out his final year of education along with the unusual, one-time group of eighteen-year-olds that include such war-heroes as Ronald Weasley, Hermione Granger, and Neville Longbottom. They plan to take the notoriously tricky NEWT level exams at the end of the year, which were interrupted and did not occur last year due to the infamous so-called 'Battle of Hogwarts.' But studying has not been the only thing on Harry Potter's mind as of late.

Sources say that Potter has been dating the notorious Death Eater Draco Malfoy, also an Eighth Year student at Hogwarts. Within the school, students have reported what had seemed to be a budding friendship between the two Eighth Year classmates. Until recently, nothing further had been confirmed, though several rumors had abounded about the nature of their relationship. Just this past weekend, however, Malfoy and Potter were seen together in Hogsmeade, presumably on a date. On Monday, the two publicly held hands in front of the entire school populace, though they made no further efforts to inform the wizarding world at large.

The youngest known Death Eater was pardoned by courts allegedly because of testimony given by Potter himself. This begs the question: How long has their alleged affair been going on, and is this the reason Potter spoke on Malfoy's behalf? Perhaps the Wizengamot needs to reinvestigate the reasons behind Potter's impassioned defense of Malfoy and bring into question the veracity of his claims. Furthermore, we urge Potter to consider whether the Malfoy heir, disgraced and dishonored, is taking advantage of his fame and reputation to secure a better future for himself. The Boy Who Lived would undoubtedly provide a means by which (continued on page 5)

"Ugh! I hate how they think I'm too incompetent to realize when I'm being manipulated! It's like they think I'm still an ignorant child that can't make good choices, and Draco's the best damn decision I've ever made! And how dare they say I defended him because of this as if I would even be with him if I didn't think he was redeemable. Who are these students anyway?" Harry ranted, eyes flashing once more in righteous anger. Draco hadn't seen that look in a while.

He personally thought that the article wasn't all that bad. It didn't really condemn their relationship, only expressed concern about whether it was genuine or a plot on his part. It even mentioned that he had been pardoned, and, really, the journalist brought up valid questions about whether there was a conflict of interest in their trial. It was only just. The reporter definitely could have brought up nastier incidents, but overall, it was quite fair to him.

That was just the beginning.

——————————————————

The next day, Harry received nearly forty letters, but that was nothing next to Draco. The Slytherin table was flooded with feathers, over a hundred owls there for just the pair of them. Draco opened one pale yellow envelope and skimmed the contents. Halfway through, he tossed it aside, sick to his stomach. It was a nasty message, telling him to stop with the love potions because Harry would never be with him otherwise. He spotted his mother's owl and winced. So much for telling her themselves.

He moved on to a lavender colored parchment. This one looked like it could be more pleasant, perhaps even sympathetic. He should've remembered that the deadliest things come in the prettiest packages.

He tore the flap, a bit hysterical with the number of letters that were still pouring in. The moment he touched the letter inside, he felt the room lurch sickeningly and spin in a twister of color, depositing him in a dank, pitch-black room.

——————————————————

Harry would remember the moment Draco disappeared in front of him for the rest of his life. One moment, his beautiful blond angel was right there, a point of radiant calm in the storm of letters, a purple note in his hand. The next, he was gone, the only evidence of his presence an envelope-free circle on the bench where he had been sitting.

Harry lurched to his feet, the long table the only thing separating him from the spot from which Draco had disappeared. Hysteria clawed up his throat, threatening to render him useless in his panic. But no, he had to stay calm. He had to. For Draco.

He spun around to face Headmistress McGonagall, who had stood up the moment the owls descended upon them. She met his eyes and nodded, reassuring him. She would find Draco.

Harry ran his fingers through his hair anxiously. Almost absentmindedly, he waved his hand, and the piles of letters on the table disappeared, hopefully never to be found again. Evil people, the lot of them. Who gave them the right to pass judgment upon their relationship, much less scold them for it?

McGonagall will find him.

She had to. What was life without Draco? They had been together for so little time, and already Harry was dependent upon that flawlessly perfect git. Hermione and Ron had each other, but Draco was all his. His to laugh with, his to protect.

His to love.

She'll find him.


	28. Chapter 27

Draco cursed and fumbled around for his wand, finally tugging it out from the depths of his robes. He cast a Lumos, only for it to spark and fizzle out almost immediately. No wands, then.

Draco was pants at wandless magic, but he could manage a simple Lumos. It was weaker than what he usually achieved with his wand, but it was something. Whatever these dampeners were, they only affected wand magic.

Using the light that shone feebly from his fingertips, Draco saw he was in a bedroom of sorts. It was sparsely decorated - only a bed, wardrobe, and nightstand furnished the room. There was a single window next to the bed, curtains shut. The entire space was only as large as a third of his bedroom in the Manor, but perhaps that was not the best indicator of size.

Rubbing his hip, which he had landed on, Draco walked over to the wardrobe. He flung it open to reveal about two dozen robes. As he rifled through them, he frowned, seeing that they were all his size. The nightstand's drawers were empty, and there was absolutely nothing else of note in the room. Draco knew it was likely a vain hope, but he tried the door, confirming that it was locked.

He shot a halfhearted Alohomora at it, but it didn't budge, as expected.

He tried the window, which opened, but it was hexed to prevent humans from leaving. There was nothing of note outside, only a hill and a couple of trees in sight. At least it was brighter with the weak light of the winter sun. Draco sat on the bed, bored but alert with anticipation. Either his kidnapper did not know he had arrived, which was unlikely considering they would've felt him enter the wards, or they were making him wait. It was a common Slytherin tactic, almost expected, and it was used to drive victims to crippling boredom or even madness so that it was easier to break them.

The Dark Lord had used it with much success.

But Draco could wait. He knew countless ways to entertain himself, a skill that came as a byproduct of attending many a boring party at the behest of his parents. There is an age where everyone deems you too young to be worth speaking with yet too old for the whimsical, amusing conversation of a child. Merlin, but Draco had never been so bored until those parties.

Nearly half an hour had passed when a noise interrupted Draco's mental recitation of old Latin poetry. He stood, all traces of the dead language gone from his mind as he prepared to face his kidnapper.

The door clicked and swung open.

Dear Merlin, Draco was prepared for anyone but this.

——————————————————

Harry paced in front of the gargoyles that lined the Headmaster's - Headmistress' - office. This was taking far too long. Who knows what was happening to Draco in the meanwhile.

Finally, something arrived and interrupted his furious walking. A silvery tabby cat said simply, "The password is Phoenix," before dissipating into the air in twisting, shining strands. Harry immediately spun around and repeated the word, barely waiting for the gargoyle to move before rushing up to the door and barging in.

McGonagall was sitting behind the desk, two men in Auror robes in front of her. One was a stranger, while the other Harry recognized as Head Auror Robards, who he had worked with briefly over the summer to capture the remaining Death Eaters.

Robards stood and held his hand out, and Harry took it, not wanting to be rude. The other man was introduced as Auror Wilson, and then they launched right into an explanation.

"We think the letter was a modified Portkey," Wilson disclosed. "It was probably set to activate on touch since the sender wouldn't have known exactly what time Draco would open the letter. They wouldn't want their effort to go to waste by having an early or late Portkey." Harry nodded because he had figured most of that out already during his frantic pacing.

"Here's what that tells us," Wilson continued. "His destination is almost certainly not under the Fidelius Charm since Mr. Malfoy did not read a Secret Keeper's note beforehand. The area may or may not be Unplottable; we can't tell at the moment. We will attempt tracking spells, of course, but that requires a bit of his magical signature. If you could provide a strand of hair, a bit of blood or saliva, or something he has imbued with his magic...?" Wilson trailed off questioningly.

"I can get that," Harry volunteered, thinking fondly of the hairbrush Draco used for at least twenty minutes every morning.

"Excellent," Wilson said. "Unfortunately, the spells probably won't work if his capturer is anything more than completely incompetent."

"So, what if you can't find him with spells?" Harry asked hopelessly.

"Then we'll have to search manually. There's little we can do for magical kidnappings, especially when done with a Portkey - an illegal one, at that - which doesn't leave a magical trace. Unless we can get in contact with your Mr. Malfoy, there's little chance of finding him." Wilson had the decency to look slightly regretful of that fact.

"So there's no hope then," Harry whispered brokenly. The Aurors looked at each other uncomfortably, and Harry pulled himself together, nodding to both of them. "Thanks for your help. If you'll excuse me." McGonagall regarded him sorrowfully as he turned and left her office.

——————————————————

Draco observed the slight figure before him. She was a full ten centimeters shorter than him, though she looked old enough to be his age. In the light coming from the open door, he noticed her blonde hair, several shades darker than his own, but not much else.

"Oh dear," she said, her voice high and clear. "Sorry, but I forgot to turn on the lights!" She fiddled with something on the wall, and light flooded the room, illuminating its sparse contents. The girl was fair with a delicate bone structure and high cheekbones. Her nose was small, and her eyes dark, her mouth curving into a charming smile. Her beauty rivaled that of even his mother, who was the most gorgeous woman he had ever met.

"Who are you?" Draco finally asked her.

She laughed, and even that was alluring. "My name is Alina Biello. You know me, no?" she asked in response to the recognition on his face.

Draco cleared his throat. "The Biellos are the Italian cousins of the Notts, correct?" Cousins was an oversimplification of it, but he didn't wait for an answer, because his father had drilled the pureblood lineages into his head from birth. "Known for their astonishing beauty, impressive ancestry, and..." Draco cut himself off. Insanity, Lucius had said. The Biellos are all utterly mad. Shame, all those centuries of exquisite breeding for naught.

Alina didn't seem to notice. "I apologize for my cavalier methods, but I simply had to rescue you! It must have been terrible, being trapped at that awful school for another year. And they were spreading all those rumors about you and that Potter boy, we should sue them for slander!" She rambled on about how unfortunate his situation had been, and wasn't he glad she had saved him?

"So you kidnapped me," Draco blurted out. Alina immediately scowled. "I didn't kidnap you. I saved you! You're terribly ungrateful, you know."

Draco sensed that it might be easier to escape if he stayed on Alina's good side. If she didn't see it as a kidnapping, maybe she would be open to letting him out of this room eventually, and from there, he might be able to get away.

"You're right," Draco said apologetically. "The school was pretty wretched. Are we in Italy? And may I ask why you are the one who is rescuing me?"

Aline gifted him with a smile. "No, we're still in Britain, but we'll go back to my home country soon, because we're to be married, of course! I couldn't have my fiancé so far away, could I? Now, tell me, is there anything you need? I wasn't sure what you'd like..." she trailed off expectantly.

Draco was stunned. "I can't marry you! I'm gay!"

Alina waved him off. "A passing affliction," she assured him. "Purebloods can't be homosexual. Besides, I'm absolutely perfect for you. Your parents would be pleased with our bonding."

Draco was sure his father would never enter him into a marriage contract to the Biellos, not after the contempt he had shown them. Perhaps this was their famous insanity manifesting? She had to be mad if she thought purebloods couldn't be gay. They were just never told about them, but they very much existed.

Alina had asked if he needed anything. If Draco was discreet, he could probably trick her into giving him the means to escape.

"You're right; they would be delighted," Draco lied. "I don't need anything at the moment, thanks, but I'll tell you if I think of something." He would think of something eventually - before she took him to Italy. And if he didn't, well, he would never again make fun of Harry's hero complex if it saved him.

——————————————————

Harry was at a loss. Never before had his path been so unclear. He always had some idea of what to do next - save the Sorcerer's Stone, enter the Chamber of Secrets, make sure everyone knew Voldemort had returned, rescue Sirius from the Ministry, destroy the Horcruxes, walk into the forest, defeat Voldemort. That had always been his goal: defeat Voldemort. But now, he had no idea how to get Draco back. He could beat a genocidal maniac, but he couldn't save the man he loved. That had been the theme of his entire life, hadn't it?

Harry was so angry. He hated everything that had led to this moment - the Prophet and its eternal nosiness, all the people who couldn't mind their own business and had to give their input on his choices like he cared what they thought, the magical post service with owls that unerringly found the recipients of their letters even if they had no right to be sending them things-

Wait—the owls. Hogwarts was Unplottable, and so were countless magical structures, and the owls always managed to find them. If he sent a letter to Draco, the owl would undoubtedly reach him since the place wasn't under the Fidelius Charm. He scrambled up and rushed out of the room but then stopped. What if Draco couldn't respond? He racked his brains for a moment before coming up with another genius plan - what if he followed the owl?

Harry ran back to get his broom and then made for the Owlery, sprinting at full speed. He enlisted a plain brown school owl to help him, giving it a blank sheet of parchment and telling it to seek Draco Malfoy, feeling hope as the bird took off. Harry mounted his broom and went after it, mentally cursing how slow owls were.

Nearly two hours later, Harry sincerely regretted his plan. His thighs ached, and his fingers were stiff with the strain of gripping the wooden handle. His eyes were tearing up from the wind, and even continuous warming charms could not prevent the chill from settling into his bones. The owl flapped on ahead, seemingly impervious to the gusts of wind that buffeted Harry about.

Another hour passed, and Harry thought he might actually fall off of his broom if he had to go on much longer. His muscles quivered with the effort of keeping him on, and he was pretty sure his fingers were stuck in the position they were in for the rest of his life. There was little below him except for hills and the occasional river. Harry had a full-on celebration when the owl began to descend, slowly but surely.

Another ten minutes later, he spotted a house in the distance. It was the only thing around for kilometers, so he made a sharp turn and landed, still quite far away, so that the inhabitants would not see him. Harry took a deep breath. He would not turn this into Sirius and the Department of Mysteries. He sighed and used a spell to ascertain his coordinates, then conjured his stag Patronus, sending it to McGonagall with his location and a brief request for backup. Finally, Harry started walking towards the house, resigning himself to waiting until more people showed up.


	29. Chapter 28

It didn't take long for Draco to formulate a plan. Alina came in close to an hour later with some lunch, which was actually quite delicious, and he asked her for a book. A very specific book.

"Transformation Magick for the Transfiguration Master?" Alina asked. "Whatever could you need a theory book for? You won't be able to practice magic if that's what you mean to do," she said, looking suspicious.

"Of course," Draco immediately assured her. "It's nothing like that. I happen to find magical theory fascinating, and I was in the process of reading that particular book. I would quite like to be able to finish it," he said, reciting his cover story.

Alina was all smiles once again. "Anything for my lovely fiancé," she trilled, fluttering her lashes flirtatiously. Draco gave her his most charming smile, the one even Pansy couldn't resist. Harry, of course, the sap that he was, broke at even the hint of a pleading look. But Draco relegated all thoughts of his brunet boyfriend to the back of his mind, knowing that he wouldn't be able to go through with his charade otherwise.

When Alina returned with the book, he accepted it gratefully. Then, mentally readying himself, he adopted a disappointed and slightly pained expression.

Alina, noticing the change immediately, asked him what was wrong.

"I have a headache," Draco admitted. "It's quite awful." He clutched at his head for emphasis.

"Oh, no!" Alina immediately started fussing over him. "Is there anything I can do for you? Headache potion, perhaps?"

"Thank you," Draco said, ruefully, "but those don't work on me. As much as I hate to say it - your company is delightful, to say the least - could you possibly leave me for a while? And open the window? It's quite hot in here. Rest is the only thing that might help, so I need to be alone for a couple of hours. Hopefully, we may talk at dinner, though?" Draco asked, trying to sound regretful.

Alina immediately assured him that she would be glad to speak with him at dinner, and she expressed concern over his headache, saying she would check on him in a few hours. After opening the window, she left, and Draco waited a few more minutes to make sure she wasn't going to come in again.

Then, in a flash, Draco got up and furiously flipped through the pages of Transformation Magick. He didn't have a lot of time, and Alina could come in at any moment. It was lucky he had already done so much practice before his kidnapping - it meant he wouldn't need to do much before getting the hell out of the house.

Draco finally found the page he was looking for. Step 6: Complete Transformation. This was it; it was now or never. He would become an animagus at this very moment, or he would be taken to Italy, perhaps never to see Britain again. Draco had managed to finish Step 4 (Simultaneous Partial Transformation) and Step 5 (Sensory Transformation) only days prior. The latter had been the most disorienting, giving him the enhanced hearing and eyesight of a dragon, as well as the ability to practically taste the air around him. Draco had also been able to see heat, and looking down at himself proved that he had been far warmer than a normal human should have been. It was fascinating, but almost too much for him to handle.

Now, with minimal practice, he would attempt the final shift into his dragon form. If anything went wrong, no one would come to the rescue, especially since Draco was currently unregistered.

Draco took a deep breath and began to clear his mind. He mentally removed the metaphorical clutter in his brain, slowly but surely reaching a state of emptiness. Draco decided he would sacrifice a bit of valuable time for safety - he would run through the partial and sensory transformations before he tried the full one. He visualized the change taking place, his few hours of practice still allowing him to do it with some ease. He turned the skin on his arm to iridescent, red scales. It figures he would be a Gryffindor-colored dragon - his life was full of irony. Harry had laughed for a full five minutes when Draco pointed out the unfairness of the situation. Again, Harry was forced to the back of his mind.

Next, Draco turned both of his arms into wings. They weren't large enough to support flight while the rest of him was human, and flapping them would be very awkward, especially since humans didn't have the right muscles for it. Nevertheless, it served the purpose of Step 4. Finally, he redid Step 5, once again noting the strangeness of heightened and additional senses.

And then, it was time. Draco couldn't afford to try this more than three or four times - it was magically draining, not to mention mentally exhausting and quite frankly dangerous.

The first time, Draco nearly managed it. His only mistake was forgetting the tail - not a life-threatening error, but it would make flying impossible. He was only lucky that he hadn't forgotten something much more important, like internal organs. In fact, he was lucky that Alina hadn't warded against magic altogether - allowing wandless magic would be the thing to save him.

Draco's second attempt wasn't close at all. He couldn't manage to visualize every change at once, so he ended up with scales and claws but no more. Draco was so frustrated that he nearly died with his third attempt, remembering that a dragon's heart has six chambers just in time to reverse the transformation. After that, he decided to take a short break, wasting precious minutes to calm down and refocus. It was fortunate that he did so, though, because it allowed his fourth try to be conducted with a clear mind. And, as such, Draco finally took on his Animagus form.

Now, he had to figure out flying and fast. If Alina came in now, all would be lost. Draco stretched his new wings carefully, testing out how they felt. His one experience with flight - the time in the potions classroom - only proved that it would be much more difficult than he had anticipated. Far from being natural, even for a dragon, flying required the tricky ability to comprehend and react accordingly to lots of information at once - balance, flapping strength, and direction were among the many things to keep track of, and they were coordinated by the joint effort of many different muscles and his tail, wings, and brain, among other things. Things that came naturally to real dragons were things through which Draco had to struggle.

Half an hour of practice yielded little but an abundance of bruises. Draco had finally learned how to take off without falling or losing his balance, but then, he usually panicked and tumbled to the ground. At least he got plenty of practice landing.

Draco slumped on the ground in defeat, wings drooping and his snout nearly touching the floor. His latest fall had only convinced him he was getting nowhere - he had landed flat on his face just like his first attempt with Harry. Recalling the reindeer's braying snort-like laughter, Draco allowed himself a reptilian smile. Harry had always made him smile, even if he had to conceal it at first.

Draco might never see his boyfriend again.

Well, that was entirely unacceptable. Draco straightened out his spine, lifting his head. He threw himself back into his attempts with renewed vigor, his energy and determination restored. With each go, he managed to get further and further off of the ground, and his progress created a feedback loop, encouraging him and raising his spirits exponentially. Consequently, he had mastered the art of hovering a meter above the ground. Tentatively, he tried leaning forward. He had heard that running was a kind of controlled falling, and he supposed that flying forward would be much the same. As long he counteracted the falling by flapping his wings more, much as one used their feet to propel themself upward and forward, he would theoretically be able to fly rather than just hover.

Draco began to panic. He was going to fall; he was sure of it. He flapped his wings in alarm, naturally trying to stop his downward motion. His muscles strained to keep him upright, and suddenly he was flying. His elation was short-lived, however, realizing that he had about five seconds to learn how to turn before he crashed into the wall. Draco dipped one wing and raised the other, as he imagined a bird would do, and his tail naturally moved to prevent him from wobbling as much.

Draco shakily headed for the open window, knowing that he would almost certainly hit something if he didn't get out into the open. With a sudden, frightening thought, he remembered that the window hadn't allowed humans to exit. Would it be the same for creatures?

Draco was about to find out.

Draco's eyes shut instinctively, bracing for impact, but he forced his body to keep going, and with a blast of cold air, he was outside. Finally, he was free. Blind with exhilaration, he didn't notice the dark-haired boy beneath him, nor the owl winging its way to the window he had just left, even with his special heat-vision. Draco simply flew as far and fast as he could on his unsteady, new wings, intent on getting back to Hogwarts, where he thought Harry was.

——————————————————

"Finally," Harry sighed with impatience. He could see McGonagall and several other witches and wizards in Auror's robes apparating nearby, and he shifted his weight from side to side while waiting for them to reach him. As they approached, he recognized Auror Wilson and a couple of others that he couldn't quite name.

"You found Mr. Malfoy?" Headmistress McGonagall asked as soon as she was within earshot. Harry nodded fervently, wishing to get on with it as soon as possible. Draco was so close, and Harry had waited patiently for hours.

Harry pointed in the direction of the house he had seen. "There's some kind of a building over there. I'm certain he's inside."

Wilson nodded at him. "That was quite clever what you did with the owl. They've all become impervious to tracking spells through breeding, but there's nothing to stop you from following one. A good head like yours is exactly what we need in Aurors."

Harry appreciated the compliment, but at the moment, he was far too worried to even contemplate joining the Aurors, and thankfully, Wilson seemed to realize that.

"Okay, everyone," he said, all-business. "We're going to form a perimeter around the house - disillusionment charms are necessary since there's little cover. Smith, Johnson, Miller, come with me. We'll go in through the front. Harris, Murphy, you go around the back and see if there's another exit. Ivanov, Joseph, you stay outside and make sure the kidnapper doesn't escape. Professor, would you like to stay outside or come with us?"

"I will come," McGonagall said, curtly.

Wilson turned to him. "Harry? I would ask you to stay out of harm's way, but you're of age now, and you've proven yourself to be just as capable as any one of us."

Harry didn't need to think at all. "I'm coming," he said firmly.

Wilson nodded. "Remember," he said, addressing all of them. "We're not going in with the intent to harm. The kidnapper has not hurt anyone, as far as we know. Be alert, but aim to incapacitate, not main or kill. Wait for my signal to move in," he instructed.

With that, they cast disillusionment charms upon themselves and moved to follow Wilson's orders. Harry, McGonagall, Wilson, and the three Aurors he had named previously all moved together towards the house, while the others split off. It was a small house, a cottage, really, but it was rather well kept for a place so far out in the middle of nowhere. The walls were clean and white, the trimming, roof, and door in pristine condition. The cottage was quaint and looked like it had been lifted right out of the rural French countryside. It certainly didn't look like the place to hold someone prisoner.

Harry, the Headmistress, and the Aurors moved into position. They waited a minute to allow the others to reach the spots, and then, Wilson raised his wand and performed a complicated series of motions. At the end of it, a trilling birdcall disrupted the peaceful atmosphere.

"Go," Wilson whispered, and they rushed to the door. Disregarding magic, two of the Aurors barged their shoulders against the door in an incredibly synchronized move, bypassing any possible locking charms. The six of them swarmed inside, wands aloft. They heard the sound of a back door being broken into and the subsequent footsteps of the other Auror duo.

Wilson whispered in a rush, "Harry, Smith, Johnson, with me upstairs. Professor, Miller, stay down here."

Harry and the three Aurors dashed up the stairs, quickly spreading out to check the doors. He ran, allowing his magic to seep out and around, searching. He skidded to a halt when it encountered a heavily warded door, his heart thudding. Harry threw himself into undoing the curses, discarding his wand in favor of using raw magic to untangle the threads of power keeping the door firmly shut.

"Here!" he shouted, trying to get the others' attention. In the back of his mind, he heard a shrill scream and the crashes and thumps of a fight. Then, one of the other Aurors - Johnson or Smith - rushed beside him. He dimly registered pleading for them to help and their apologetic voice saying they didn't understand what he was doing enough to assist.

After what felt like an age, he felt the final snares of magic dissipate into the air, freeing the door to be opened. Harry practically slumped against it, desperately trying to push it open. With the Auror's help, he managed it, and the door swung open.

The room was undoubtedly empty.

Harry sank to the floor, positive that this was where Draco had been kept, but it was too late. He was gone.

Exhausted, Harry swayed in place, barely feeling the arms keeping him upright. His vision swam and clouded with darkness, and then he was gone too.

——————————————————

What felt like seconds later, he was waking up from an already-forgotten dream. Harry heard voices around him, shouting and demanding, and he groaned with pain and fatigue.

Opening his eyes, he felt his limbs tremble. Wilson was standing next to a strange, beautiful woman, who was tightly bound with Incarcerous. Harry struggled to a sitting position, and words finally started to make sense to him.

"How can you not know where he is?" Wilson yelled.

"How can you not know where he is?" the woman screamed back. "Because of you, my fiancé is gone! We were supposed to go to Italy and get married soon! We were in love, and now you've taken him away from me. I swear you will regret the day you crossed the Biellos!"

Fiancé? Draco wasn't engaged, was he?

"Where is Draco?" Harry croaked, but the room fell silent anyway.

Suddenly, the woman jerked against her restraints and yelled with renewed energy. "You!" she shrieked. "You miserable piece of filth, trying to corrupt my Draco? How dare you show your face in front of me? Come here, and I'll teach you exactly what the world thinks of rubbish like you!" The woman was no longer beautiful, reduced to a frantic, hissing, feral beast, muttering obscenities and insults.

"Where's Draco," Harry mouthed to Wilson, lacking the energy to speak, and not wanting to draw the woman's attention again.

Wilson shook his head in disappointment. "I'm sorry," he mouthed back. "We searched the whole house. He's nowhere to be found."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Now that I'm all caught up posting chapters, they'll be once every few weeks and posted after I put them on Wattpad.


	30. Chapter 29

Realizing that he was getting nowhere with questioning the woman, Wilson gave up and ordered four of the Aurors to take her to the Ministry to deal with later. Eventually, Harry got up and joined the others in searching for clues. He went to the room that he had broken into first, hoping Draco might have left something behind.

The room was quite spartan, filled with only the bare necessities. The bed was slightly rumpled, and the window was wide open, letting in the cold winter air. Upon approaching the bed, Harry caught sight of a relatively large book, and, with a jolt of surprise, realized it was the same book Draco had been reading in the Forest so long ago.

"Really, Draco? Transformation Magick for the Transfiguration Master? You hardly qualify as a Transfiguration Master."

Harry smiled as he recalled finding Draco in the Forest that day and the pleasant things that came after. But now, he had to focus on the book. Draco's nightly project, the task he had been working on nonstop for weeks into the early hours of the morning, sometimes with Harry as his sleepless companion.

"Animagus?"

Harry did not know how Draco had managed to acquire the book while trapped here, but he did know that his boyfriend had been incredibly close to achieving his animagus form. Was it so impossible to believe that he had finally done it while in captivity? His form was small enough to fit through the window.

Unwilling to give himself false hope until he had more to go off of, Harry looked about desperately for any other evidence that might corroborate his theory. A glint of light caught his eye.

The mirror he had given Draco was lying on the ground half underneath the bed, miraculously not at all cracked. Harry knew Draco would never have taken it off without reason. Could it be that it had fallen off when he had changed into his dragon form?

Harry had only seen it once from the eyes of a reindeer, but Draco's dragon form was a sight to behold. Though he had teased him at the time, Draco's animagus was an elegantly fierce creature, full of majesty and deadly weapons. But, the creature was small, only the size of a baby dragon, even though Draco was technically an adult. If he had transformed, the mirror easily could have slipped off his neck to the ground. The rules of keeping clothing versus accessories in animagus transformation was a complex and under-researched topic, but Draco might have accidentally left the necklace behind.

Harry searched the rest of the room thoroughly and then carried his finds to Wilson. At the last second, though, he remembered that Draco was unregistered and would undoubtedly not appreciate Harry giving him away. So, he quickly changed course and went to find McGonagall.

Harry approached the professor without fanfare, trying to stay discreet. He quietly explained his theory to her, supplying the necessary details to convince her that it made sense.

McGonagall sighed. "Mr. Potter," she began, "while logical, your idea is a bit far fetched. Self-studying to become an animagus is uniquely challenging, and while I have no doubt Mr. Malfoy is capable of it, that's an unlikely series of events. If you are correct," she surveyed him over he glasses, "then he will most likely return to Hogwarts at his earliest convenience, and we must wait for that to happen. It's more likely that Miss Biello sent him somewhere and refused to tell us where."

Harry got distracted by her last comment. "Miss Biello?" he asked.

"She is the woman you saw earlier, the one who screamed at you," the headmistress answered, looking faintly amused. Harry nodded. "Right," he said, mind already returned to the problem of Draco.

"It is time for us to return," McGonagall said as if reading his mind. "We can await Mr. Malfoy there if you are right; otherwise, we will let the Aurors find him. Put your mind at rest, Mr. Potter, he is no longer in immediate danger."

——————————————————

Harry really, absolutely despised waiting. He was famously impatient, and Harry hated not knowing things, creating a volatile combination that was likely to erupt into a fierce outburst of rage at any moment.

Hermione. He needed Hermione.

If it weren't for his brilliant friend, the past summer might have ended in the complete destruction of the newly restored Grimmauld Place. Instead, she had taught Harry how to use his impatience for more productive matters. When he couldn't wait for a lead on a missing death eater, she taught him to review the case over and over for details or consult other references and precedents. When Harry grew frustrated with the lack of progress in the Ministry, Hermione showed up with a pile of magical law books and coached him in giving speeches. She would know what to do now; she always did.

The moment Harry entered the common room, Hermione knew. She stood while offering platitudes to Ron to prevent him from joining them - Harry or Hermione would always fill him in later, but Ron was never the best at the actual calming Harry down bit. Ron was one of the best friends Harry could ask for, and he knew he would always have Ron's support, but they all knew where each of their strengths lay in their friendship, and they were comfortable with their respective roles.

Hermione gestured out of the common room, and Harry nodded, following her through the door. She led him down the drafty corridor into a dusty, disused classroom, shutting the door behind both of them.

"So," Hermione said, "I'm assuming you're having trouble not doing anything while Draco is missing?"

Harry nodded, clenching his fists and digging his nails into his palms to channel his rising anger into something else. He opened his mouth to respond, but Hermione stopped him.

"No, don't speak yet. You'll say something you'll regret, remember? Just listen to my voice and follow my instructions," she ordered him.

"Okay, first things first," Hermione said, and her voice calmed him as nothing else could. "Does Mrs. Malfoy know? Even if she does, I think it would be a good idea to write to her, so she knows you're serious about Draco and just as worried as she is."

Harry nodded. It was a good idea, and maybe Narcissa would know something about this Biello woman.

"Good," Hermione approved. "After that, maybe you can research animagi more in-depth? Draco may have trouble coming out of his form if that is what happened to him. I have some books that could help," she ventured.

Harry nodded again, gratefully this time. He opened his mouth, and when no protest was forthcoming, he said, "I'll go write that letter, then. Could you bring the books to my dorm?"

Hermione smiled reassuringly at him. "Of course, Harry. Let us know if you want company, though."

Harry thanked her and then went to his room. He sat down, grabbed a piece of parchment, dipped his quill in an inkwell, and began to write.

Dear Mrs. Malfoy,

I presume you've heard of Draco's disappearance. If not, then I'm sorry you hadn't been notified until now, but Draco vanished by means of a touch-activated Portkey at breakfast. I managed to locate the place he was held (long story short, I followed an owl), but he was already gone.

I'm so sorry. This is my fault. I wasn't thinking when we decided to make our relationship known. I wish we had contacted you first - your advice would have been appreciated, but it was an urgent situation (Peeves was the cause for that.) I knew the papers would report on it, but I should have anticipated an adverse reaction and prepared Draco for it better. I wish we had thought to warn you, too. I hope you didn't suffer unduly for our hasty actions.

I wonder if Draco has told you about his mission? He has decided to become an animagus. He has this idea that his animagus form - a dragon - is so ideally suited to him that he has to be able to show it off at a moment's notice. He's been working tirelessly for many nights to bring his goal to fruition, and my theory is that he managed to do it while he was imprisoned, and he escaped out the window.

If I am right, he may return soon. I promise to notify you immediately if he does.

I don't know if you've heard yet, but his kidnapper was a woman by the last name of Biello. Would you happen to know anything about her that could help find Draco if he didn't escape and was sent somewhere else instead?

Sincerely,  
H. J. Potter

Harry sat back, setting his quill down and rereading his letter. Was there anything else he should include? The past few weeks had been so crazy that it was becoming near impossible to keep track of anything at all. He and Draco had been planning to tell Narcissa about their relationship during the winter hols when they could go together and tell her in person. Draco had decided to take the risk of not telling his mother immediately in favor of getting to tell her and gauge her every expression. 

That plan was shot down the moment the newspapers printed their front-page article. There was no way Narcissa missed it, and if she somehow, miraculously, hadn't seen it, there was almost no way she had escaped the barrage of owls that had started this current mess.

Should he add that they had intended to tell her? Harry didn't want to come off as mannerless or make her think that they didn't value her opinion, because he really did. It may seem irrational to wish for the validation of the wife of Lucius and the sister of Bellatrix, but she was also the cousin of his godfather, the great-aunt of his beloved godson, and the mother of the man he loved. She was an important figure in his life merely through association, but Narcissa was interwoven throughout his most valued relationships in a way that only pureblood inbreeding could achieve. Harry needed her to be on good terms with him if only because it would affect too many people that were dear to him if they were not friendly.

With that in mind, Harry made an addendum.

P.S. We did not mean any offense in not informing you of our relationship beforehand. Draco was insistent that we tell you personally, not through a letter, and I agreed. Our intent was to tell you during the hols in a couple of weeks.

With that, Harry was satisfied and sent it off with an owl. Punctual as ever, Hermione knocked at the door and came in with a small stack of books. Some were more general transfiguration books, others were instructive, and the rest were highly specific research papers on a precise area of animagi, she informed him.

Harry thanked her with a weak smile and got to work reading.

——————————————————

Draco had been flying for at least an hour. With untrained muscles and a completely different body structure, it was a miracle that he had even made it that far. But, he desperately needed to land soon. The problem was that there was absolutely nothing for many kilometers around. He didn't even know if he was going in the right direction. 

There was nothing he could he do about it - he would have to land in the middle of nowhere and make sure he didn't get turned around and start flying back the way he came.

Draco gently angled his body downwards, slowly approaching the ground. As he neared it, he panicked a little bit and alighted awkwardly, folding his wings slightly too late for any semblance of gracefulness. Regardless, he could rest and take an hour to recover. Still, the problem of navigating his way back to Hogwarts remained, and he had no idea what he could do. Eventually, after he sat and contemplated his options for a while, he discerned that Apparating to Hogsmeade would be the fastest route, and Draco was glad he thought of it.

Unfortunately, he had one small issue: he didn't know how to transform back into a human. Draco assumed that it would be similar to turning into an animal, just in reverse, but what if he was wrong? That would land him in a situation that would be even worse than the one he was currently in. Draco had never seen the point of reading ahead to that step; he had never anticipated that he would achieve the animagus form under circumstances in which he would not have access to his book, or even Professor McGonagall if things were serious.

There was no other option but to stay a dragon and continue flying without knowing his course. He had to come across Wizards eventually, right?


	31. Chapter 30

Narcissa's reply arrived promptly that evening. It was almost impressive how fast the owl must've had to fly to make it there and back so quickly. Harry, eager for a break from his incessant studies, tore open the envelope and began to read.

Dear Mr. Potter,

I am thankful for your concern and thought - I was aware of Draco's disappearance, but nonetheless, I appreciate you telling me.

Your worry for Draco is touching and most reassuring. That you went to such lengths - followed an owl, Mr. Potter! You're likely to catch a cold like that - makes me feel better about Draco's position. I cannot thank you enough for showing concern for my son when others most certainly will not.

To be quite frank, I suspected you and my son shared something quite a bit more meaningful than a friendship. Draco is exceptional at concealing information from all but his mother. But, Mr. Potter, I fail to see how you are at fault for his disappearance. It seems that you and Draco made your plan together and only because of that insufferable poltergeist. It is the reporters' fault for insisting on nosing about into the lives of people who rather deserve privacy after all they've done for our world. And, if you had had the chance to consult me for advice, I would have suggested a similar approach - controlling the flow of information is the most critical thing when confronting news outlets. You could not have anticipated the outcome, so I do not blame you.

A dragon? He did not tell me anything about becoming an animagus. Magical creature animagi do tend to run in our family with quite a bit more frequency than many other families. Still, I should have liked to know, and I long to see it. He would make a magnificent dragon, no? I thought so too when I named him for that particular constellation. I wish he had not stayed up quite so many nights, though if that is what saved him, I shall most assuredly not complain. Please do let me know the moment you see him, and I thank you once more for your consideration.

Biello is an old pureblood lineage. They are Italian, and they are fiercely proud of the purity of their blood, even more so than most British pureblood families. There are many old Italian wizarding families, but the Biellos deem nearly all to be contaminated to some degree and are thus extremely intermarried. Centuries of this practice have culminated in a family that is almost entirely insane - few escape their biological curse, and those that do are usually illegitimate children. Miss Biello must have kidnapped my son in one of her fits of insanity. Rest assured, they shall never step foot in Britain again.

I would not know where she might have sent him, though Italy would be my best guess.

I am glad you two did not endeavor to hide your relationship from me, and I appreciate the sentiment behind wanting to wait. I take no offense from your actions; they were entirely reasonable.

Regards,  
Narcissa Malfoy

It was a long letter, perhaps even longer than the one he had initially sent to her. Maybe that was a good thing - if Narcissa liked him, that would be one stressful step in his and Draco's relationship out of the way. Harry still wanted to go to the Manor for a couple of days over the hols like they had planned because he quite wanted to say hello properly and see Draco's childhood home without the imminent threat of death looming over his head. He was looking forward to the possibility of embarrassing stories and baby pictures, which was another reason to stay on Narcissa's good side.

Speaking of the holidays, he needed to figure out what his Christmas present to Draco would be. Harry wanted it to be something special - this would be their first Christmas together and their first holiday at all, in fact. He couldn't get Draco just anything, it would have to be extraordinary, and something they could look back on with fond memories.

Memories....hmmm, there was an idea. Harry contemplated the possibility for a while and grew more and more pleased with it by the minute. Working on it would also serve as a distraction, so Harry got started immediately.

——————————————————

What exactly constitutes a village? Draco wondered. Is it ten families? Twenty? More?

The small group of six houses - huts, really - certainly did not seem to qualify. Built in a somewhat circular shape, the little gathering more resembled a camping trip, or even a small cult if he was being really imaginative. Draco didn't know what to expect from them, and he didn't know if they were wizards or not.

Draco found it hard to decide whether he should take the risk or keep flying. It could mean getting home faster, but encountering a group of muggles would be strange and possibly dangerous. Finding a group of wizards could be even more so. So, Draco flew on.

Eventually, he came to something that was definitely a village. It was significantly larger, and Draco felt a bit safer attempting to land there. Moments later, he was on the ground, more or less hidden from sight.

"Look, mommy, a dragon!" Maybe not so hidden after all.

A small child was clapping and pointing at him. The mother looked flabbergasted. "Oh my, it really is a dragon," she breathed. The woman pulled out a flat rectangular box sort of thing, tapped at it a bit, and suddenly, a bright light briefly blinded him. Then, she tapped it a bit more and held it to her ear.

"Hello?" she said. "Yes, I am looking straight at a dragon right now. No, this is not a prank - I'm staring at it right now. It doesn't look like any animal I've seen before. Yes, I took a picture. Of course. Yeah, could you come as soon as possible? It doesn't look dangerous, but who knows. Yeah. Thanks." She said her goodbyes and brought the box back down.

Draco got the feeling he needed to escape. He was breaking the Statute of Secrecy, and he was almost positive that the woman had asked someone else to come. He needed to get away before he got in serious trouble with the Ministry.

Although...

What if he allowed the muggles to see him? Inevitably they would cause a big fuss, maybe even big enough that the Ministry would hear about it. They would, eventually. All he had to do was stay put, and the wizards would come to him. Draco would be in massive trouble for jeopardizing their kind, but what choice did he have? It was this or wander aimlessly for who knows how much longer.

Draco deliberately yawned and let loose a small jet of fire. The woman gasped, and her daughter laughed with delight. He looked straight at the pair nonchalantly, then ambled over to a corner as if he cared as much about them as a hippogriff cares about a human. He stretched and curled up like a cat, silently congratulating himself on being such a skilled actor.

Draco pretended to take a nap, but he was on high alert, listening with his heightened senses for any sign of danger. The woman and her child were nothing to be worried about, but whomever the lady had called might be an issue. Draco didn't want to escape one prison just to end up in another, especially one that might not be so friendly. Out of the cauldron and into the fire, so to speak. 

About five minutes later, he heard a second voice. 

"Maria! I came as soon as I could. Where is the dragon?" His voice wavered uncertainly on the last word as if he were uncomfortable saying it. 

"Paul! I'm so glad you came! Look, here it's curled up in that corner. You won't have to hurt it, will you? It looks so helpless, and so small too! What if it's only a baby, separated from its mother?" The woman, a mother herself, was filled with concern at this possibility.

"Don't get soft on me now, Maria. It's a dragon, for heaven's sake! It's almost definitely dangerous, even if it is a child. Anyway, we know nothing about them - it's just as likely to be an innocent baby as a hundred-year-old menace," Paul said, a warning in his tone. "If it makes you feel better, I won't hurt it. I'll just take it over to Jack; he'll know what to do with it."

"Jack!" the woman cried. "He's a cold-hearted man, and you know he gives me the creeps! He'll probably dissect it or do something equally horrific. Oh, Paul, please don't take it to Jack."

Draco was alarmed by this rather impassioned profession of aversion from the seemingly-compassionate woman. If Maria, who felt sympathy for a dragon, of all things, was so adamant in her dislike of this Jack, Draco certainly did not want to end up in that man's hands. He opened his eyes and attempted to fix Paul with a very stern look.

Paul was a man of medium height with medium-length, stringy, brown hair, and a nervous expression that gained a hint of fear when he saw that Draco was "awake." 

"Maria..." he warned. But Draco had no intention of hurting Maria or her child. He didn't much want to hurt Paul either, to be honest. He just needed to give a bit of a warning to discourage them from taking him to this Jack character. This time, he shot fire slightly to the left of Paul, then bared his teeth in a challenge. 

"See, Maria? I told you this thing was dangerous! Stay behind me," Paul said with false bravado. "Maybe I better call Jack here. He's better equipped to deal with situations like this."

"No, Paul! I think he can understand you - he seems to think you're a threat. I don't think he would appreciate Jack coming here. Even a dumb animal would be able to sense that he's a danger of the worst kind, and I don't believe that dragon is anywhere near dumb. Just let him be; he's not hurting anyone," Maria pleaded. 

"Not yet," Paul argued. 

The girl was looking at Draco intently. "Mr. Paul," she said suddenly, "I think you should let it go. If it's a baby, its mommy might be looking for it, and she's going to be much, much bigger. If she comes here, that'll be super dangerous!" Both of the adults looked at the girl in surprise. 

"Why," Paul said, "you're quite right, little Sophia. Maria, I do believe you have a genius in the making right there." Sophia positively beamed with pride. Paul sighed. "Fine, we'll let it go. But we should stay here to make sure it doesn't cause any trouble while it's leaving."

Well, unfortunately, trouble was part of Draco's plan. He needed to make sure this got all the way to the Ministry, and that was a tall order. If everyone in the village saw him, that would significantly raise his chances of being noticed.

He took off into the air, ignoring the shout of panic from Paul and the laugh from Sophia. Draco flew just over the tops of the houses, staying in sight but out of reach. He periodically let out fantastic bursts of flame, taking satisfaction from hearing the gasps and shouts below. He circled the village three times, then took refuge in the eaves of one of the largest houses. All he had to do was wait, so he closed his eyes for a real nap this time.

\-------------

"You're not a real dragon, are you?" a voice interrupted his nap. Draco's eyes flew open, and he growled an instinctive warning. A shock of bright red hair was floating on a broom. Of course, it's a Weasley, Draco thought, disgruntled. Draco raised his head and awkwardly nodded in affirmation. There was no use pretending with a wizard.

"I'm Charlie," the Weasley offered. "Hop on, and we'll get you sorted out." Draco regarded him for a second but remembered that Ronald Weasel was alright, and Charlie didn't know who he was quite yet. He leaped onto the broomstick, clutching at it with his talons, and Charlie started flying as soon as he was situated. 

"Dragons are my area of expertise, you know. That's why they called me in - that and I was in the area checking out a possible dragon egg confiscated from a black market trader. I didn't think there was a baby dragon out in the middle of Britain, so I wasn't all that surprised to find an animagus," Charlie nattered on cheerfully. "You have those distinctive markings that you wouldn't find on any real dragon. I bet you got stuck; that's why they have all those rules about registering before you try. You caused a lot of trouble, you know. The Ministry had to send out their entire team of Obliviators to deal with this mess. They're stretched thin at the mo - a student vanished right out of Hogwarts, and the Aurors have had no luck finding him. Poor Harry..." the Weasel trailed off, more talking to himself. Draco could have hexed him for withholding news about Harry.

"Anyway, hang on. We've got to get you to the Improper Use of Magic Office. I could do the reversal charm, but if you got stuck, then you're probably transforming for the first time, and I don't want to mess with that. You'll also be registered, though I can't say whether or not you'll be punished." Charlie frowned. "Anyway, we've got a long ride ahead. You really were out in the middle of nowhere."

Draco sighed internally, hoped the Weasel wouldn't talk as much as he had been, and settled down to enjoy the ride as much as one could when a Weasel was flying.


	32. Chapter 31

After a long, tiresome journey that Draco tried his hardest to sleep through, the Weasley managed to get them into Improper Use. Following a rushed explanation of his predicament, they were directed to a woman named Suzanna Peterson, a doddery old lady that had to be at least ninety years old. She peered at Draco over her overlarge spectacles, muttered something that sounded shockingly rude for such an ancient woman, and gave an excessively large sigh.

"On the floor," she demanded. "I won't have you messing up my desk."

As far as Draco could tell, transforming on her pile of papers would only improve the organization of them, but he obeyed anyway because he was getting quite impatient. Being a dragon wasn't all fun and games.

Suzanna pointed her wand at him suddenly, and he nearly jumped out of the way by pure instinct. His heart was pounding so hard that he didn't hear her incant, but she must have because he felt the familiar, uncomfortable sensation that accompanied transformation. And, suddenly, he was finally back to normal.

"Malfoy! It's you!" he heard Weasley exclaim.

Draco leveled an even gaze at the red-head. "Quite. Now, if you don't mind, I'd like to get back to Hogwarts."

\-----------------------------

Harry carefully stowed the vials of the silvery, incandescent substance in his trunk where he hoped no one would discover them. It had been difficult deciding what memories he was going to use, but he had finally gotten a combination with which he was happy. Now all that was left was-

"Draco!" Ron exclaimed, bursting into the room, startling Harry badly.

"Ron! I could have broken these!" Harry said crossly. "What about Draco?" he continued, not daring to hope.

Ron grinned at him. "Good news, mate. Charlie just sent me a patronus from the Ministry, and he said Draco's with him. He's completely safe - they're just questioning him to find out what happened."

Harry scrambled to his feet, joy flaring in his chest. He rushed out the door, Ron close behind him. "Charlie? Why's Charlie with him?" he asked, running through the halls. Ron, panting, replied, "I have no idea. He didn't tell me any details. He just thought you'd want to know that Draco was safe."

They didn't talk anymore, and within minutes they reached McGonagall's office, nearly bumping into the headmistress herself as she exited. She blinked at them in surprise. "Don't tell me you already know," she said crossly. "Honestly, you two, what's the point of being the head of this school if my students know everything before me?" she continued to rant while ushering them inside and throwing floo powder into the fireplace.

"Go on," she said. "It's better if I send you myself instead of finding out a couple of hours later that you broke into the Ministry."

Harry stepped in straight away, loudly enunciating "Ministry of Magic." As he was whisked away, he heard Ron ask McGonagall to send Hermione too.

——————————————————

Draco, unfortunately, was not allowed to go to Hogwarts immediately. Instead, he was dragged off to the Auror department, Weasley insisting on tagging along. There, he was interrogated about where he had been, what had happened, who his kidnapper was, and how he had escaped. Draco answered each question thoroughly but quickly grew bored.

"How did you get out of the house?" the man asked.

"I asked her for a book that taught me how to become an animagus, did the steps, and transformed into a dragon. I knew that would be my form since we brewed the potion in Professor Snape's class. Then, I flew out the window until I found a village," Draco answered in a monotone voice.

"You became an animagus?" the Auror asked.

"Yes. That old woman Suzanna can testify to that." Draco sighed.

"You're a bit young, aren't you?" the man asked suspiciously.

Draco bristled, but a commotion outside prevented an angry response.

"I swear, Johnson, if you don't move, I will make you move!" threatened a very familiar voice.

"I'm sorry, Potter, but there is an investigation underway. I cannot allow you to enter-" the muffled voice got louder and louder until the door banged open, revealing Harry and a harried-looking Auror just behind him.

Draco stood slowly.

"Draco," Harry breathed, and then he was striding over and engulfing him in the warmest, coziest, most wonderful hug Draco had ever had, squeezing him so tight it was near uncomfortable, but at the same time, perfect. Draco rubbed his back, reveling in the love he felt radiating from his boyfriend.

"I didn't know if I would see you again," Harry mumbled into his neck. Draco kissed the side of his head soothingly.

"You're stuck with me, I'm afraid," he whispered back, trying to lighten the atmosphere. Harry pulled back, cupping his cheeks and staring into his eyes - soul, really - for a solid minute.

"Good," he said, and that was that.

The Auror that had been questioning him cleared his throat. "Not to interrupt, but..." he trailed off when Harry shot him a fierce glare. "Erm," he started again. "We're almost done anyway. Is it alright if I owl you the rest of the questions?" Draco nodded, still annoyed by the earlier implication that he had been lying.

Outside the room, the two Weasleys were waiting. Draco nodded to Ron, then faced Charlie and said, "Thanks, Weasley. It's relieving to know at least one of you lot is capable of performing your job." Charlie grinned.

"A Malfoy complimenting a Weasley! I'd never thought I'd see the day," he said, shaking his head in wonder.

"Don't get used to it," Draco warned, but Harry's smile undermined the statement. Just then, Hermione strode in, walking straight over to Draco and giving him a massive hug. Draco shot Harry a panicked look, but Harry, the useless boyfriend that he was, simply mouthed, "You're on your own with this one."

Draco awkwardly patted Hermione on the back, holding back a sigh of relief when she let go. "It's wonderful that you're safe," she said. "Harry was inconsolable without you. It was heartbreaking to watch."

His heart skipped a beat. Draco looked at Harry, and he knew, he just knew. Without breaking eye contact, he said, "Let's go."

——————————————————

They didn't talk much while they made their way back to their dorm. Hermione asked him a few questions until Harry quietly reminded her that Draco had probably just answered the same ones at the Ministry. McGonagall welcomed him back, sounding like she had genuinely missed him.

When they finally reached the common room, Ron and Hermione hung back, letting them advance to their dorm alone. They made eye contact once more, sharing a strange tension before Harry opened the door, stopping short just inside.

"Erm-" Harry said, not knowing what to say in response to the image in front of him.

"What is it?" Draco asked impatiently, trying to see over Harry's shoulder.

Theo and Goldstein were snogging on Theo's bed, clearly not having heard them enter. Draco cleared his throat obnoxiously, and the two sprang apart guiltily.

"Ah, Draco, lovely to see you back," Theo said, smoothing his shirt down.

"I'm sure you found a way to cope with my absence," Draco said with amusement.

"Er, quite," Theo replied. "We'll be out of your hair then." He dragged Goldstein past them into the hall and shut the door behind them.

"That was unexpected," Draco mused. "I didn't know either of them were into boys. Quite an interesting development. What do you think?"

"I love you," Harry blurted out.

Draco stood absolutely still. He didn't want to move, in case it broke this fragile moment that he wasn't quite sure was real. "What?" he asked, speaking slowly.

Harry moved close, grabbing his hands and holding them firmly. "Draco, I love you. More than anything. I wouldn't live another second without saying it, without you knowing."

"I-" Draco was speechless. This perfect, perfect man loved him, and that was almost inconceivable. So, he didn't think. He kissed Harry, letting the action say more than he had the ability to.

"Don't say it if it's hard right now," Harry murmured against his lips. After a moment, Draco pulled back slightly.

"I want to say it, even if it is hard. I love you, Harry, more than words can express," he said reverently. Harry laughed, and it was a joyous, free sound.

——————————————————

When winter hols finally arrived, it was bittersweet. The last Christmas at Hogwarts and he wouldn't even be there. Harry had been particularly nostalgic the previous few days, smiling wistfully when the snow fell, and Hermione conjured a little blue flame in a jar. Instead of berating a couple of third years that charmed snowballs to hit the windows, he thought of years past and pelted Ron with a snowball of his own. Of course, he spent every available moment with Draco.

Harry wasn't exactly pleased with their plans. They would spend Christmas Day at the Manor, and Boxing Day and the rest of the holidays at the Weasley's. But, they would be apart for all the days prior, and that was the part that didn't sit well with Harry. Ever since The Incident, he didn't like to be apart from Draco for long. A couple of hours was okay, but after too long, he became restless and needed to check that Draco was alright. He knew he was clingy, but he couldn't help worrying. It would be par for the course for his life if Draco were to disappear again.

Packing his trunk brought another bout of memories. It was the second-to-last time he would be leaving Hogwarts, and the last time he could say he knew he was coming back. Draco, on the other side of the room, was similarly lost in pensive silence.

It was the same throughout the 8th year common room. People spoke in whispers, laughed quietly, and reminisced together about their outrageously strange time at school. It was odd to think that he was the cause of that. Not for the first time, Harry wondered what it would have been like had he not been the Boy Who Lived, and if he had someone famous in his year who caused all sorts of mayhem. He might've resented them for disrupting his otherwise normal life, but, then again, no one was complaining about him stopping Voldemort.

If he wanted to remain sane, he couldn't dwell on "what ifs" and "maybes." That was a short path to regret and insecurity that Harry had no intention of following. Any timeline that had him and Draco together was enough for Harry.

All too soon, they were standing on the platform at Hogsmeade, waiting for the Hogwarts Express to arrive. Harry, Hermione, and Ron, together always, now with the addition of Draco. Now Harry knew his place in the dynamic - third-wheeling had been a somewhat awkward time for all of them. Pansy and Zabini soon arrived to balance it out - three Gryffindors and a Slytherin could never work for long - and thus, their trio turned into a sextet. The train compartment was a little crowded, sure, but it was the good kind of crowded, the one that is full of friendship and closeness, and getting to know each other.

Dreading the end of the ride only made it come quicker, and the splitting of the group came soon after. Everyone left for their homes, and Harry to the Burrow, slightly comforted by the thought of seeing each other soon. It wasn't enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope all of you are doing alright and staying healthy! Please, do whatever you need to in order to stay sane - I know it's hard, but if you can, get rid of the things that cause you to stress because you really don't need to stress any more right now. I'm sorry, but I can't write for the next month - it's Ramadan, and that means no romantic fanfic writing! I'll still be checking AO3 though.


	33. Chapter 32 (and more)

This was killing him. Through sheer force of will, Harry had managed to keep himself from flooing straight to the Manor for three whole days. Well, that and he disliked the place enough that it was a compelling reason to stay in the warm, comfortable home that was the Burrow.

Still, he missed Draco more than he could say. Everyone could tell, too. They all acted extra cheerful around him and tried to distract him with tasks or games. Even Ron asked him to play chess far more than usual - Harry was as terrible at it as always, so it had to be boring for him. As for Molly, well, it was the summer before fifth year all over again, except this time she was trying to distract him from Draco instead of the Order. Arthur dragged Harry into many a conversation about muggle technology, while the twins were ever eager to update their financial partner on the successes of their store. Hermione encouraged Harry to get ahead on schoolwork.

Once, early on, Charlie mentioned how Draco's animagus form was almost more beautiful than those of actual dragons, but the others were quick to change the subject. Harry even noticed Bill taking him aside to whisper something a few minutes later, and he knew their topic of conversation when they both glanced at him surreptitiously.

He couldn't fault them for trying. Neither could he fault himself for having separation anxiety with all they had been through.

Instead, he threw himself into their distractions, hoping they would fill his mind. Yet, it was inevitable that he would be left alone every now and then - Harry couldn't expect the Weasleys to babysit him all the time - and it only took him as long as remembering that Christmas was coming for thoughts of seeing Draco to seep in. From there, it was a short path to worrying about his wellbeing and convincing himself that no, he did not need to Apparate to the Manor because Narcissa would tell him if something were wrong.

Harry ignored the voice telling him that whatever could harm Draco would have no qualms about doing Narcissa in either.

He could only keep it up for so long. On the fourth day, Harry inexplicably and mysteriously found himself bidding everyone goodbye at the door with a don't worry, I'll be back after Christmas. None of them were surprised, and even Molly didn't try to convince him to stay. Harry blinked as he was suddenly outside, in the cold, with a huge rhubarb pie foisted upon him by Molly, preparing to appear at the door of the Manor with not a single warning nor a by-your-leave.

And then, he was at the Manor with absolutely no deliberation - an image of a splinched girl in a golden hoop flashed through his mind. Harry was quite cross. It wasn't much fun suddenly finding yourself doing things without deciding to in the first place. Even if he was kind of glad his body was on autopilot. Conscious thought meant talking himself out of going and not seeing Draco.

The wards washed over him pleasantly as Harry walked up the path - since when had he been keyed into the wards? - and he politely knocked after balancing the pie in one hand precariously. He had the sudden mental image of Narcissa opening the door to Harry and a bloody mess of a rhubarb pie at her feet just in time to laugh right in the real Narcissa's face.

To her credit, she simply raised an eyebrow, looked down at the pie, raised the second eyebrow, and coolly said, "Hello, Mr. Potter. We did not expect you for a few days yet."

Harry shifted and smiled sheepishly. "Er, yeah. Sorry about that. It's just, well, I missed Draco, and also I was thinking, and it's not really fair that we're only spending one day together here and like a week at the Burrow, and so I though maybe it would be all right if I came a few days early? Not that you have to let me in, I mean, I didn't ask or anything so it's totally fine if you want me to leave. Honestly, I should probably just go, sorry to bother you and- oh yeah, Molly made this pie for you, it's rhubarb?" He held it up, flushing at his rambling.

Narcissa smiled ever so slightly. "You're very welcome, Mr. Potter, do come in. Truly, you convinced me at 'I missed Draco.' I'm sure he'll be pleased, he's been quite poor company thus far." She ushered him inside, plucking the pie from his hands. "I'll have to thank Mrs. Weasley for this," she said thoughtfully, more to herself than Harry.

"Er, Mrs. Malfoy?" Harry said tentatively.

She spun around gracefully, dress and hair lifting and twirling with her. "Yes?"

"Could you call me Harry?" he asked. Mr. Potter made him feel very much older than he would like.

Narcissa looked a little taken aback, but acquiesced easily enough. She directed him to Draco's room and left, presumably to put the pie under preserving charms.

Harry wandered around a bit, already having forgotten the way, and loitered in the halls admiring the decor. The Manor wasn't so bad, at least the parts of it that were unmarred by dark magic and darker memories. Eventually, he bumped into a house elf, who blinked at him in confusion, and Harry asked her to take him to Draco, which she did readily enough. Guest etiquette and all that.

Two staircases and about a million hallways later, she stopped and bowed. "Miffy will be leaving now. Sir is calling Miffy if he is needing anything else." She popped away to resume whatever she had been doing before Harry commandeered her.

He took a breath and knocked on the door, hesitantly opening it when Draco yelled to enter.

Draco was lying on his bed, staring at the ceiling. "I told you, Mother, I'm not in the mood to talk about Harry," he grumbled, not even looking over.

"I guess I'll just leave then," Harry joked, grinning when Draco shot up to stare at him.

"Harry!" Draco exclaimed happily. "How are you here?" He gracefully slid off the bed and approached Harry, kissing him chastely in welcome.

"I missed you," he replied, simply. "Why not come to the Manor? Quite frankly, I wanted to have a chance to be with you and your mum for a bit."

Draco smiled at that. "I'm glad," he spoke softly, "Mother is my entire family, now. I could want for nothing more than my two worlds getting along."

Harry's heart melted, just a little. After all, he would give anything for the Weasleys to accept Draco, and for him to like them in return. Harry resolved to make every effort to please Narcissa because it's what he would want from Draco.

Draco was talking again. "You sure you're okay being here?" He looked unsure. "I know it can be a lot, even with the redecorating..."

Oh how he loved Draco, ever the worried boyfriend. "It's fine," Harry assured him. "Let's just avoid the ballroom and dungeon, if that's okay."

"It's hardly a dungeon," Draco protested, but squeezed his hand comfortingly.

"Show me what you do in your free time," Harry suggested. "Surely you can't spend all your time lazing about staring at the ceiling, refusing to talk about me with your mother."

Draco snorted. "Ha bloody ha. You're hilarious, Potter. I cannot fathom why Ginevra broke up with you."

"She didn't break up with me! She's a lesbian!"

"Well you were in a relationship, weren't you? And now you're not? That's the definition of breaking up."

"Well she didn't break up with me! It was necessary! Because of the war!"

"Oh sure, Potter, blame it on the war."

Just because they were together, they certainly did not give up their favorite pastime: bickering with each other.

——————————————————

Draco woke up early on Christmas morning, as usual, not even pausing to enjoy the sight of Harry Potter in his bed. His mother had suggested a guest room, of course, and Draco had accepted immediately, ignoring Harry's side glance.

"It was a trap," Draco told him later. "Mother wants to retain the ability to corner you whenever she wants. Obviously we can't allow that."

"Why didn't we just say I was sharing your bed?" Harry visibly cringed as he said that, and Draco almost didn't dignify it with a response.

"Gryffindor," he complained. "Obviously, that opens me up to embarrassing questions about our sex life! Do you really want Mother asking whether we are using protective potions?"

Harry looked suitably uncomfortable, so Draco went on. "This way, she has no proof we're sleeping together at the moment, but if she tries to confront you, she'll have to come find us and deal with me too."

Harry had chosen that moment to say something about Slytherins, mind games, and what have I gotten myself into, but Draco was too busy reveling in the glory of outwitting his mother to pay him any mind.

In any case, Draco woke Harry up obscenely early on Christmas morning, and they both sneaked down to steal some food and exchange presents.

After not-so-quietly scrounging up some breakfast, they retrieved their presents for each other and went back up to open them in private, deciding they would open everything else when Narcissa was up too.

Harry's present for Draco was medium-sized and rattled around a bit when he shook it gently. At Harry's encouragement, he opened it carefully and pulled out three slender vials with silvery substances inside them.

"Memories?" Draco asked. Harry nodded. "Yours?" He nodded again.

Draco picked up his wand. "Accio pensieve!"

"You have a pensieve?" Harry asked with disbelief.

It was a smaller one, not quite as big as a standard pensieve, but good enough for their purposes. "It was my father's," Draco informed him, carefully extracting one of the memories. "Unfortunately, only one person can use it at a time." He gave Harry an apologetic look.

"It's fine," Harry said, waving one hand in dismissal. "We can watch them together another time."

Draco swirled the memory around, glanced at Harry, who looked both excited and a bit embarrassed, and lowered his head.

Draco looked around. It was the party, the one Hermione had planned for the eighth years what seemed like a lifetime ago. In front of him, someone tapped past-Harry on the shoulder. It was Blaise, a very drunk Longbottom hanging onto him.

"Potter," said Blaise, inclining his head. "If you wouldn't mind terribly, could you do me a favor?" Harry looked startled, but he nodded, and Blaise looked relieved.

"Could you help Draco over to your dorm? He's a bit more drunk than he usually gets. Could you just help guide him to your room, make sure he lies down? It would be a huge help." Blaise gave him a pleading look, laying it on a bit thick. Damn, Draco would have to get Blaise a fucking fruit basket for that. Though, to be honest, Blaise probably had less than benevolent intentions, Draco thought, eyeing Longbottom.

Harry looked surprised. "Why can't you do it?" he asked. Blaise rolled his eyes. "I have to take Longbottom here back to our dorm. He refuses to let go of me." Draco snorted, but he wasn't complaining either

"Parkinson?" Harry asked. Wow, Harry really didn't want to look after Draco. He was slightly offended. Blaise became annoyed on his behalf. "She's tending the bar and can't leave." He proceeded to list the whereabouts of literally everyone else.

Harry sighed, but said, "Fine. I'll take him." Blaise nodded in thanks, and said, "You'd better go quickly, last I saw he was threatening to start dancing on the tabletop." Draco cringed. He had no desire to see that.

Harry left and pushed through people, looking around the room. Eventually, past-Draco ran right into him. Draco cringed harder.

"Oof," he said.

"Potter!" past-Draco said unnecessarily loudly, clinging to Harry, who managed to extricate himself. Past-Draco nattered on about random things. Draco was never drinking again, for fucks sake. Merlin, the things he said. Past-Draco was being singularly embarrassing, talking about someone who had told him to leave for being a Death Eater.

"But that's okay, because then I saw you! And I ran over and here I am." Past-Draco laughed delightedly. The worst part was, he has absolutely no ulterior motives to mentioning the incident. It would've been okay if he meant to stir sympathy. Maybe it was okay, though, especially with the way Harry was staring at him when he laughed.

"Someone called you a nasty Death Eater?" Harry asked angrily. Draco was touched by his concern, even so early in their friendship thing. Had they even been friends at that point? Past-Draco was talking again. "It's okay. I am a nasty Death Eater. I should've gone to jail. Why didn't you let me go to Azkaban, Harry?" Merlin. Draco was so done with alcohol. They bickered a bit about whether Draco had deserved to go to jail, with the end result of Harry winning, Draco smiling sappily at him, and Harry looking a little bit besotted.

They headed to the dorm, Draco following close behind. Past-Harry opened the door for them, holding past-Draco's wrist, and dragged him to his bed.

Draco was embarrassingly drunk, of course, and crashed face-first on the bed, somehow dragging Harry down with him. Past-Harry landed on top of past-Draco, arms bracketing his head.

Draco turned to face Harry, who pushed himself up to loom over him, making the real Draco blush a bit. Fuck if they didn't look entranced by each other. Draco raised a slightly shaking hand - bloody hell he really was a love-struck idiot - to touch Harry's cheek, whispering, "Harry."

Naturally, Harry, Gryffindor that he was, flushed immediately, eyes dropping to look at Draco's lips and flashing back up.

Then, quite suddenly, Harry wrenched himself away from past-Draco, who just watched, hand still trailing behind in midair.

"Go to sleep, Malfoy," past-Harry told past-Draco quietly. Then he left, escaping to the bathroom, and Draco barely took in his flushed, wild-eyed state before he felt the memory fading away.

"Holy shit," Draco said as he was pulled out of the pensieve. Harry laughed and asked, "Which one was it?"

"It was the party," Draco told him. Harry looked a bit self-conscious but overall extremely proud of himself. "And?" he asked.

"And," Draco continued, "we're massive idiots. We were so obviously attracted to each other. However, I cannot believe I acted like such a Gryffindor. Also, if that was one of the memories, I simply cannot wait to see the others. And on a completely unrelated note, I'm never drinking again." Harry burst out laughing at that.

Draco ultimately decided to put the rest of the memories aside and enjoy them later, since they took quite a bit of time to get through. Anyway, he was excited for Harry to open his present.

Harry tore open the paper over the small box and opened it to reveal a slip of paper. "What's this?" he asked, reading it. "Call Miffy for your present? What does that mean?"

Draco sighed. "Just call her. I couldn't put it in a box." Harry squinted suspiciously.

"Fine. Miffy!" Harry said loudly.

The house elf appeared with a muffled crack. "Is the sirs needing something from Miffy?" she asked politely.

Harry cleared his throat and glared at Draco. "Er, yes. I'm supposed to ask you for my present...?" he trailed off questioningly.

Miffy's eyes lit up. "Miffy is being back soon, sirs! Miffy is bringing Harry Potter his Hyperion!"

"Hyperion?" Harry asked, but Miffy was already gone. So he turned to Draco and repeated his question. All Draco said was, "You'll see."

And he did see. He saw a small, black crup puppy.

"You did not!" Harry said delightedly. He lifted up the puppy and immediately cuddled it. Draco melted at the adorable sight. "Why Hyperion?"

"Well, I remembered you said that Hermione recommended sleeping next to an animal to help with your nightmares, so I thought maybe he could help you. Hyperion is the god of sleep, isn't he?" Draco responded.

"I think that's Hypnos," Harry corrected. "But Hyperion is a great name, isn't it?" he addressed the last part to the crup, kissing it softly on the nose. Draco snorted.

While Harry was distracted, Draco owled Pansy a certain emerald bracelet that may or may not have been the catalyst for this whole adventure. Who knows? Maybe this path was inevitable.

When he got back, Harry was saying, "We'll be together forever, you'll see. Me, you, and Draco, always."

——————————————————

Yup, that's it! End, fin, finite incantantum and all that. Definitely don't scroll down because there's nothing more to see here.

Oh all right. I may have written an epilogue. Go on, read it. Why? Because you deserve it.

Four years later

"Mr. Potter, how are you feeling about the release of your book?"

Harry paused on his walk home from the grocery store. Damn reporters were everywhere. He shifted the bags into a more comfortable position, already having decided to answer.

"I'm quite proud, to be honest. And it's Potter-Malfoy, not Potter. I'd never have finished that book without my husband's help and occasional coercion." There. The press loved it when he talked about their question and Draco in the same statement.

"Does it feel good to finally have the truth about your godfather made public? It must have been hard having everyone tell you he was a criminal."

A stubborn reporter, then. Harry kind of hated it when they made assumptions about his feelings, but this time they were pretty spot-on.

"Yeah, it was. Actually, I nearly didn't believe him myself. I can't stand to imagine what that would've been like - I already had so little time with him, and it could have been even less." Harry didn't like to think about it, but he had been very close to murdering one of the only adults that he considered family. Thank Merlín for Lupin.

Perhaps seeing his face edge towards despair, the reporter backed off a bit, thanking him for his time. Harry liked him all the more for it, and bid him goodbye.

Walking home was exceedingly pleasant, which was why he insisted on doing it every day, even though Draco would rather he apparated. Harry whistled as he approached their little house, a two-story brick thing with plenty of room for the three of them.

Harry muttered a wandless alohomora to open the door - his hands were quite full - and was promptly greeted by the (tied for first) most important member of the household.

He laughed. "Hullo to you too, Hyperion." The crup was quite large now, big enough to lick at his hand and sniff the bags hopefully.

"Yes, yes, I've got your dinner. Hold on a minute, you hungry bastard." Harry strode to the kitchen to put everything away.

"Harry?" Draco called from somewhere in the house.

"Kitchen!" Harry yelled back.

A moment later, Draco stuck his head in. "Hello, how was your day? Hermione and Ron will be over in an hour."

"Shit, already? I completely forgot." Harry flicked his wand to set everything away, already thinking ahead to making dinner. Hyperion sat patiently at his feet, and Harry rewarded him with bits of meat from the curry he was prepping.

All too soon, the doorbell rang, and he heard Draco greeting his friends. Harry finished just as they were sitting down, and he had the pleasure of serving piping hot food.

"Looks great, Harry!" Hermione exclaimed, tucking in. Ron did the same, but with less words and more enthusiastic noises. Draco smiled and ate like the proper, mannered, slightly pretentious man he was.

"How are my favorite godchildren?" Harry asked after a pause.

"You know," said Hermione, "Rose tells me stories about two of her classmates sometimes."

Harry hummed noncommittally.

"It's really quite entertaining," she went on with quiet amusement. "You see, they very much hate each other, or, at least, they insist they do."

"I don't like where this is going," Draco declared.

"They're always getting into fights," Ron chimed in. "Quite the bloody troublemakers, they are."

"One's Slytherin and the other's Gryffindor, of course," his wife continued. "But Rosie told us something funny the other day. Reminded me of some people I know, to be sure..."

Harry could see it too, now. He glared at the pair, wishing they would stop right there.

"You see," Hermione said gleefully, "the other day, they were caught snogging in the Potions cupboard! Quite the scandal!"

"Yeah, yeah," Harry muttered. "Absolute bloody scandal, I'm sure."

"Now this really just proves my theory," she finished.

"What theory?" Draco asked, before Harry could warn him not to.

"Why, my theory that you could have been spending your years at Hogwarts quite a bit more productively! These youngsters have you beat!" Hermione exclamed, clearly having the time of her life.

Draco glanced at everyone, Harry last. "Can I hex her?" he begged. "Just the one time?"

"I see no problem with that," Harry said coolly, but Hermione just smirked.

"See that!" Ron shouted, unable to keep the smile off his face. "That's your bloody influence, Malfoy! She's becoming a Slytherin!"

"I see no problem with that," Draco echoed, and both Harry and Hermione snickered.

In his kitchen, sitting with his best friends and husband, his crup snoozing under the table, and having finally spread the word of Sirius' innocence, Harry finally felt at peace. He had done it, at last.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Keep an eye out for my next work! It's dreary, and the first two chapters are already up!


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